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heartseungs-archive · 4 months ago

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the dreams we’re scared of | l.dh

genre ♠ murder mystery au, thriller, romance, angst

pairings ♠ crime scene investigator! haechan x reader

word count ♠ 17.8k

synopsis ♠ There’s something about seeing a dead body in front of you that makes it more real, almost as if the death is your own. But when your nights get more sleepless with every new victim, Haechan fears you may be in over your head. Especially if a serial killer’s still on the move, watching every move the both of you make.

warnings ♠ kidnapping, mentions of blood, violence, vulgar language, mentions of alcohol (nothing too graphic however this is a murder mystery so dead bodies are described to some relative detail)

info ♠ the idea of csi! haechan is just really sexy. i’ve never actually watched csi

Your footsteps are the only sound that accompanies you at this time of night, besides the occasional lone cricket. Here, the shadows seem longer, and the distance between each streetlight further and further. The one that you pass flickers brokenly, gnats buzzing in and out of your vision.

The darkness is solid enough that you could touch it if you wanted. Yet, with every step you take, it retreats just a little, enough for you to see the tips of your white sneakers against the rough gravel pavement. It continues on until you see the familiar street sign. You’ve walked this alley hundreds of times, but it never gets any better.

You’re strangely tense, but you suppose it’s just because of the jitters that being alone naturally gives. Still, there’s an uneasy feeling resting in your chest, the pace of your breathing slightly heavier.

Tonight feels different. Even the moon is hiding behind the clouds, almost as if it’s scared. It’s nothing, you tell yourself, but your pace gets just that tiny bit faster.

However, there’s a slight dissonance to the footsteps. You’re not the best at hearing, but it doesn’t just seem like an echo.

You pause, just briefly.

The sound of footsteps continues.

Something is very, very wrong, and the feeling of danger seizes you, enough for you to start breaking into a run.

The rapid thudding of someone else’s shoes against the ground follows immediately, and you try to focus on the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, the cadence of your breathing.

You’re so close to the exit of the alley, the turn to the main road, that you can see the light leaking onto the pavement from the corner of your vision.

You’re so near that you begin to hear the familiar rumble of the cars on the highway when a hand grabs you roughly and you fly back.

A choked scream barely escapes you before your body is slammed against the pavement painfully and your face follows after. You don’t even get to see the man above you, his face veiled.

Darkness surrounds you, heavy and choking and endless, and you sink into it like quicksand, unable to escape.

Your eyes fly open wide, and there’s a soft gasp that escapes you. Around you are the walls of that exact same alley, but sunlight floods through brightly, and you can see the little cracks in the cement, bits of green poking through.

Another difference is that the alley is not deserted, but instead filled with the buzz of chatter, and the occasional chuckle.

The very last, and likely most important difference is that the girl lying dead on the floor isn’t you, but Kim Mijoo, twenty-six years of age, estimated time of death 3.45am.

You stride over, ducking underneath the yellow tape that blocks off the crime scene. For a job so macabre, the vibrant colour seems abnormally cheery and out of place.

“I think I’ve figured it out,” you state to the two men who are there before you are. Doyoung has his arms crossed, worrying his lip tiredly when he turns to face you. Next to him, a man with pink hair is crouched down next to the body, inspecting it closely. When he looks up at you, eyes curious, your breath hitches.

Not the time, Y/N. For god’s sake, there’s a dead body. You scold yourself, but it doesn’t do much.

“I think the assailant grabbed her from behind. There’s very obvious head trauma, but it doesn’t seem to be from a weapon. He probably slammed her head into the gravel, and that’s why there are bits of it embedded in her skin. The wounds on her neck seem like strangling, but there’s no evidence of a struggle. She was likely already unconscious or dead when he did it.” Your face is blank as you describe it, and Doyoung tries to hold back a grimace, but he nods. A glimmer of pride enters your heart, but it’s quickly quashed by a bitter feeling when you look down at Mijoo. Having her name makes it feel personal, almost as if you know her.

Haechan remains silent as he looks at you, gaze heavy. You try to avoid it.

“We’ll go with that for now, and confirm it when we get the medical report. Let’s head back to the office for now, and see what we can get from the evidence,” Doyoung states grimly, before waving over the coroner.

The last you see of Mijoo is her face, bloody and bruised, before it is zipped up smoothly into a pristine white bag. Still, your eyes follow as she’s dragged into a van unceremoniously like a piece of cargo.

Doyoung is already ahead of the both of you, getting into his own car.

“You need to stop putting yourself into the shoes of the victims,” Haechan mutters lowly, and you jump at his voice. In the sunlight, his faded pink hair is almost bronze. His face lacks any amusement, and you shrug.

“It gets the job done. You saw how Doyoung looked. Everyone’s stressed,” you defend.

“Still, that can’t be good for anyone. Or healthy.” There’s a sliver of concern in Haechan’s voice, and you smile shakily at him. Haechan’s right, like he is most of the time. There’s still cold sweat beading at the base of your neck from your little spiel, and a chill that refuses to leave. Still, it’s insignificant compared to the fear that Mijoo must have felt, and that’s what you tell yourself each time you allow your overly vivid imagination to aid you.

The both of you remain quiet on the journey back, and you try to enjoy the bustling scenery of Seoul that passes you by. However, Mijoo’s face keeps flashing in your memory, unwilling to leave. You’re quite sure it won’t until the case is closed.

When you finally enter the station, you’re immediately hit in the face by the freezing air-conditioning, and the frantic buzz of activity. Neither you nor Haechan slow your footsteps, however, as the both of you turn a corner and take the private staff elevator up to the sixth floor. The office here is much quieter, an almost deathly calm, which you suppose is appropriate for the kind of work you do.

You’ve been in the Major Crime Division for three years, and the work only gets more interesting day by day.

“Y/N. Haechan. Doyoung’s waiting for the both of you in his office.” Jaemin’s desk is near the front of the office, and he’s always the first to welcome the both of you with a smile. You try to grin back, but Jaemin doesn’t expect much. He’s obviously heard of the events that transpired this morning, and he was the one to get the civilian call when the body was reported.

You don’t bother to knock when you slide open the glass door of Doyoung’s office, which is as clean as the first day you walked in and he handed you your badge. A wooden nameplate lies on his desk, the word ‘Superintendent’ emblazoned in glossy letters.

“Here’s what information we have on her. Kim Mijoo works as a waitress at a bar in ltaewon, which explains why she was out so late. She lives in Gangseo, and was murdered along Gangseo-ro 76 gil.”

You hear Haechan’s sharp intake of breath at Doyoung’s words, and know that he’s thinking the exact same as you. Gangseo has the highest violent crime rate in Seoul, and for good reason. No one in their right mind would go there late at night, unless they had to. For her to be a waitress in Itaewon and live in Gangseo…it was likely that Mijoo wasn’t just a waitress, but offered more to her customers.

It seemed in poor taste to point out the obvious truth, and you’re grateful for the silence that befalls the room. She had already died an undignified death that she didn’t deserve, even if most people on the street would sneer at her choice of occupation.

Yet, you saw it for what it was. A woman who needed to keep a roof over her head somehow. Not so different from yourself.

Despite his tendency to crack jokes in inappropriate situations, you’re grateful for Haechan’s tactfulness now, as he remains sombre, standing next to you.

“Apparently, she’s made a report for sexual harassment against a man by the name of Yang Seojun, but that happened two years ago. Still, it’s one of the only leads we have.”

You look up sharply, your mind spinning through possibilities. “It has to be someone she knows. The crime seems premeditated, and they must have known her path home. Seojun may be a main suspect, but it could very well be a customer or a colleague,” you reasoned.

“I suppose we’ll have to make a trip down to Itaewon then,” Haechan replies simply, hands tucked into his slacks. Doyoung nods. “The both of you go ahead. I’m still waiting for forensics to get back to us. I want the both of you off work punctually though, got it?”

His tone is stern, but you nod, knowing that he’s doing it out of concern. For all his coldness and sharp tongue, Doyoung is a good superior to you and Haechan. He doesn’t misuse his power, doesn’t make unreasonable requests, and pulls his weight as much as anyone else. He’s part of the reason why you’ve enjoyed working here so much, even if the pay is less-than-ideal.

You’re back in Haechan’s car again before you know it, the address of the bar keyed into his GPS. He drums his hands on the steering wheel, occasionally humming to whatever song is playing out of the speakers.

“Can you not look so damn excited? We have a crime to solve on our hands,” you huff, levelling a sharp glance at Haechan. He simply shrugs in acknowledgement. “Unlike you, I’m not some psychic empath. Itaewon is fun, even if we’re technically on official work.”

“You better not run off,” you warn dangerously, and Haechan smiles smugly. “I won’t drink until the questioning is done, okay?”

“That’s fine, I suppose.”

The journey down to Itaewon is slowed by the heavy buzz of traffic and heralded by the slow change of grey-toned skyscrapers to neon lights. The area that both of you are in is further from the most crowded parts of Itaewon and looks much older.

“This place is deserted,” Haechan mutters when he’s done parking his car, keys casually dangled in one hand. You narrowly avoid a puddle that’s filled with trash and something that's very evidently not water, trying not to wince at the smell of vomit.

“Well, it’s a Monday. I doubt many people would be out partying at this time,” you reply as the both of you push open a glass door that is smudged with grime. The stairs are narrow as you descend, and your grip on the railing is tight.

When you reach the bottom, however, the walls are noticeably newer, leading to two dark wooden doors that are in much better condition. Haechan knocks sharply thrice, before stepping back.

After what seems like an eternity, the door opens, and a lady steps out. Soft jazz music escapes from the bar into the cramped hallway that both of you are standing in. She’s wearing a long-sleeved black dress, her hair pulled back in a neat bun with two perfectly-placed curls framing her face. Her eyes are catlike, sharp as she takes in the both of you.

“We’re not open yet. Come back in three hours.” However, before she can shut the door, Haechan quickly jabs his foot in. In close quarters, he towers over her, his expression void of emotion. If you didn’t know him, you would probably be intimidated. Still, the woman’s gaze remains steely, her hand resolutely on the door handle. You suppose she has plenty of experience with troublemakers, and Haechan’s actions are barely a cause for concern.

“We’re conducting an investigation on behalf of the National Police Agency. Senior Inspectors Lee Haechan and Y/N L/N, Major Crime Division. I’m afraid you’ll have to let us in.” Haechan’s tone is polite, but with an underlying sharpness that tells you he’s not joking.

If he has to, he’ll break down this door to get what he needs.

However, the lady just smiles even wider, her pearly-white teeth a stark contrast from the shade of blood-red that her lips are painted. “I’ve had people come in here telling me they’re superintendents, executives, chaebols, and diplomats. Most of them were vastly overselling their identities. Unless you have proof or a warrant, I don’t want to see you here.”

“You have an employee. Kim Mijoo. She left this place at around three am on Friday,” you interject, and Haechan turns back to look at you.

Something flashes in the woman’s eyes, and she immediately focuses on you. “Did Mijoo get into any trouble?”

You feel as if you detect a hint of fear in her voice, but you ignore it for now. “Not trouble. She was murdered. We’re currently investigating, so it would be wise of you to not obstruct a public official’s duty.”

There is a beat of silence, and then two. Your eyes remain fixed on her as she swallows, eyes blinking minutely. Finally, the pressure on Haechan’s feet is eased, and she retreats backwards.

“I suppose there’s no avoiding my civic duty, then. Come in.” Her voice is level when she speaks again, with no evidence of any shock.

The bar inside is surprisingly upscale, considering its dilapidated exterior. The walls are lacquered wood with hints of gold, and your shoes clack softly against the black marble floor. You follow her past the bar counter, into a hallway filled with curtains. She pushes one aside to reveal a private room, gesturing for the both of you to take a seat.

The plush velvet of the armchair is soft against your back, but your back remains stiffly straight. You’re never really able to relax while on duty, while Haechan easily slouches back into a relaxed posture.

“We’ve got an hour until my employees come in, so that’s the time you have. There aren’t any cameras in this room either, so don’t worry about that.”

The image in her file finally corresponds with the woman sitting in front of you, who looks vastly different with make-up. This is Song Chaeyeon, thirty-four years of age and the owner of the bar that Mijoo has been working at for the past eighteen months.

“Great. We just have a few questions. What is your relationship with the victim?”

“She’s just an employee. We are friendly enough, I suppose. However, she is much closer to a few of the other girls that work here.”

“Do you know anyone who might have had a motive for the crime? An unruly customer, perhaps?” Chaeyeon shakes her head.

“Our customers are all regulars. They’re familiar with the girls here. No one would try anything, as far as I know. However, if the girls get personally involved with their clients, then….I can’t guarantee. But no one would know that except them.” You understand what she’s insinuating. Prostitution may be outlawed, but there are so many other possibilities.

“We’ll need a list of all the employees here, along with any customers that Mijoo has interacted with, even in passing. In addition, we’ll need corroboration for the whereabouts of everyone on that list on the night of the murder. It would also be good if we could speak to the employees that Mijoo is close to today. Otherwise, they can come down to the station within the week,” you say monotonously as if reciting a script. This isn’t your first murder investigation, but it is the most confusing one.

Haechan has remained silent throughout the entire thing, but it’s no surprise to you. He prefers not to be involved in the technical procedure, which you’ve naturally taken over instead. As much as either of you hate to say it, he’s the muscle when the both of you are out on official duty. Although you’ve never encountered any real danger, or deliberately put yourself in a situation that might warrant serious risk, it feels good having a safeguard, a partner to watch your back.

And once the both of you return to the station, he’s the first one to throw himself headfirst into research and pore over the information you’ve gathered, while you’re there mainly to bounce ideas and help with organization.

“You can speak to them today. Everyone will be here, as we get ready for the week. If the both of you are willing to wait in this room, they should be here soon.” You nod, attempting a polite smile. Despite her cold demeanour, she has been helpful, and you have no interest in getting on her bad side unnecessarily, especially since this is one of the few sources of information you have.

She casts another glance at Haechan, who remains unmoving. You nudge him with your elbow, but he ignores it, only humouring you with a tilt of his head. After a pause, she leaves, and the only thing that remains is the unfamiliar scent of her floral perfume.

“Thoughts?” You finally give in to your curiosity, wondering what’s kept Haechan silent all this time.

“I don’t particularly trust her, but we’ll have to work with it,” he states, resting his hands on his knees while the both of you are temporarily allowed some solitude.

The first person you interview is a shaky, nervous waiter who barely looks past twenty. He responds to each one of your questions with a stutter, evidently distraught from the moment he walked into the room. From the way you meet Haechan’s eyes and he sighs, you know this isn’t the person you’re looking for.

The second one is more promising, however. If Chaeyeon is to be believed, this is Mijoo’s closest friend at her workplace, a girl who only joined a few months after her.

“Xiaoting. You’re not a local, are you?” Haechan asks, and she shakes her head. “Moved here a decade ago. I’ve got my papers at home, if you need to verify that.” Her voice is terse, as if anticipating the question you have on the tip of your tongue.

Sometimes, you find yourself hating it too, the way they shrink back from you, knowing the authority you represent. It’s most definitely not a burden for you to shoulder, and neither is the blame on Haechan, but he understands, squeezing your hand comfortingly and taking over the questions.

“There’s no need. Thank you for cooperating with this investigation. We asked Chaeyeon this just now, but do you know anyone that Mijoo was closely involved with?”

“Close enough to motivate a murder?” Her tone is direct, and you are slightly taken aback, but you nod.

“There are a few that come around here and there, but I see Woo Eunhyuk with Mijoo most often. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of him, but Yang Seojun. He was Mijoo’s ex-boyfriend.”

“The one that she made a harassment report against,” Haechan mutters absentmindedly.

“Yeah. They broke up about three years ago. But he kept coming to find her, and got drunk here. Smashed a few bottles in the process too. I’ve never seen him threaten her, though. But if you’re asking me who murdered her, I’d only have one obvious suspect,” she replies, and you hum in thought. It’s plausible enough. A classic story of a violent ex and a crime of passion fits the bill a little too perfectly, and it’s definitely something the newspapers would love. It would be easy to simply close the investigation there, but you’re not too excited to come to a conclusion just yet.

“You’ve been very helpful, Xiaoting. If there’s nothing, I think we’re done here.” Xiaoting nods, but she seems to hesitate slightly, as if there’s something she wishes to say.

“Mijoo was my friend. I know what other people think of us, working in places like this, but she didn’t deserve any of that,” she says nervously, eyes aimed at her lap. Her shoulders are sunken, and you feel a sense of sorrow for the girl. She’s likely no older than you.

“Feel free to call us if you need anything, or if you think of any other information that might be helpful. We’ll do our best,” you reply, and Xiaoting smiles gratefully at the both of you.

As you and Haechan exit, the image of Xiaoting sitting in the room alone, shoulders sunken, lingers. You jolt slightly when you realise it’s already dark outside, the sun rapidly setting. The streets are slightly more crowded now, and your phone lights up with a text from Doyoung. Despite the fatigue, you smile at his message, which is an insistent reminder to get off work.

“You know what? I think I need a drink,” you state, rubbing at your temples, and Haechan lets out a scoff.

“Drinking when we have work tomorrow? How unlike you,” he teases, but Haechan is quick to stride towards the nearest bar he sees, the red pop-up tent visible from a mile away.

He holds the curtain open for you as you step in, the odd chivalry of the gesture causing your lips to tilt up. Inside the small space, the sound of chatter seems intensified, your other senses dulled by the steam that billows above the food.

You and Haechan find yourselves a table in the corner, the feeling of the rickety stool strangely comforting. Before you know it, there are four bottles of soju on the table and two steaming bowls of kalguksu in front of you, along with a few sides. You realise that neither of you have had a meal since you headed down to the crime scene in the late morning, and you’re starving. For a while, both you and Haechan don’t talk at all, instead focused on the food.

“I know Doyoung said we’re off work, but I think we have an obvious target. Even then, something about this doesn’t feel right. I feel like there’s more to this.”

“Xiaoting said that he hadn’t been to the bar in months, since the last time he appeared and Mijoo had to chase him out. So why would he murder her now?” he questions, and you shrug.

“Premeditated crimes take time. Even then, six months is a long time to wait to kill someone, I suppose.” You’re lost in thought, and Haechan grabs the empty shot glass from your hand to refill it.

“Something might have instigated it. A confrontation, maybe.”

“Do you think we can get access to Mijoo’s phone? Text messages, perhaps.”

“From what I heard, the water damage was a little too much for the old model. But Jisung and Chenle will see what they can do,” he assures, and you nod, deciding to leave it at that for now. As much as you enjoy your work, you don’t wish to pester Haechan with thoughts on it, not when the entire purpose of this meal is to unwind.

The first day is always the worst day, and it doesn’t get better until the both of you solve the case. And then the cycle starts all over again.

You watch as Haechan orders two more bottles, and you squint at him, confused. “Didn’t we agree on four bottles?”

“We’re not university students anymore, Y/N. You can handle a bit more than two bottles. If not, I’ll just drink the rest,” is Haechan’s smooth reply, and in your slightly tipsy state, you don’t question his statement.

The both of you had instituted that rule for both your sakes after a bad test had the both of you downing ten bottles and waking up with a splitting headache and no memory of the night before. Four bottles were comfortable enough that you felt the effects, but outside of the dangerous territory where you might do things you would regret.

Two hours later, there’s only one full bottle left on the table, and you’re really feeling the effects of the alcohol now, while the man in front of you is still relatively sober, the flush on his neck the only betrayal of his sobriety. Haechan wavers occasionally in your vision, and you grin at him.

As much as you don’t believe in using alcohol to avoid your problems, it feels nice to have it temporarily shifted to the back of your mind, clouded by the drowsiness that is quickly flooding into your limbs.

“Hello, Hyuckie,” you mumble to no one in particular, but Haechan perks up. He hasn’t heard the nickname in years, and you only seem to use it when you’re tipsy or extremely tired. Usually both. He takes a quick glance at his watch. It’s half past ten, and he runs calculations through his head. The both of you have to be in the office at nine tomorrow, and you wake up at seven-thirty.

“Y/N, we should go,” he says, tugging at your arm, but you only look up at him, smiling blearily. Up close, your face is flushed, your eyes clouded as you blink drowsily to clear your vision. Your bleary-eyed expression is cute, Haechan thinks, but he quickly dismisses the thought in favour of pulling you up from the seat and towards the exit.

He needs to get you home. Otherwise, you’re going to be dead on your feet from exhaustion tomorrow.

He’s quick to hail a cab while keeping an insistent grip on your arm to ensure you don’t wander off. You’re much more excitable when you’re drunk, a complete opposite from your usually composed self. It’s a direct contrast from Haechan, who’s loud when sober and withdraws into himself once the alcohol hits. And as much as he finds the way you act endearing, he’s also half-terrified he’ll turn around to see you gone in the crowd of people.

The entire drive, the taxi driver keeps glancing back at the both of you, and Haechan thinks it’s because he’s terrified that one of you might puke your guts out into his car. When the car stops, he slips the elderly man a few extra notes, before helping you out gingerly.

He lets out a sigh of relief when the both of you are finally outside your apartment door, and Haechan reaches underneath the doormat for the spare keys, not trusting your hand-eye coordination right now.

He’s halfway in and his shoes are off before he realises you haven’t followed him in, instead leaning against the wall of the corridor half-asleep.

“You are the most troublesome person I know,” he complains as he drags you in, only to be met with a weak hit on his back.

“I wonder what everyone at the office would say if they knew that you were prone to such violent tendencies,” Haechan mutters, only to be hit another time.

“They would say…that you’re a big bully. Who’s always stubborn and makes me do all the boring work,” you retort. However, Haechan can’t take you very seriously, especially when your eyes are closed while you say it. He lets out a barely-audible laugh, and immediately guides you to your room, where you’re quick to lie down.

“Well, this big bully is the one getting you home safe and into bed. You’ll thank me when you wake up,” he says, unlacing your sneakers, but he looks up when he doesn’t get a response. Your breathing has slowed, and Haechan realises you must have fallen asleep. Despite himself, he smiles.

You’ll complain about sleeping with your work clothes on, but there’s nothing much Haechan can do. He’s done a rather decent job of removing your makeup, or at least that’s what he thinks as he disposes of the wipes in the bin. There’s a set of his clothes that he keeps here for occasions such as these, and he’s quick to make himself comfortable on your couch.

You had added a few more pillows a few months ago at his protest, and Haechan found it much easier to fall into a drowsy state, addled by the alcohol.

His last thought is of you, before his eyes finally close and he drifts off.

“Can anyone get in touch with Woo Eunhyuk? I’ve been ringing his line all morning,” you state, frustration creeping into your tone. Of all the inconveniences to befall you, this one feels particularly pointless.

“He’s currently on a business trip in the US and won’t be back till the end of the month,” Jaemin replies, and you try not to sigh. A month is a long time, especially when he’s a prime suspect.

“If he was just a normal businessman, we’d have a much easier time,” Haechan points out, and you glance at him. “What do you mean?”

“Searched the guy up out of curiosity. He has a net worth of twenty million.” Jaemin lets out a low whistle at that, and you crumple the paper in your fist unwittingly. You understood what Chaeyeon meant now, and found it almost befitting. Itaewon was a place where you could find anything and anyone, where the two opposite ends of society could be found in the same room, mingling. It was a place of enjoyment, of indulgence, but also of danger.

“Well then, nothing we can do but keep looking. Seojun’s been brought in already, by the way,” Doyoung reminds, and you grit your teeth.

Today will be another long day.

You make a beeline for the pantry, filling up a glass of water and popping a Panadol before anyone can notice.

Out of the blue, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching the office, before a man rounds the corner, a police officer behind him.

Yang Seojun is here.

“Speak of the devil,” Haechan mutters under his breath as he observes Mijoo’s ex-boyfriend and the prime suspect in your case. At first glance, he looks unassuming, with a white blouse tucked neatly into khaki shorts and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses framing his face. Even though his shoes look a little scuffed, he looks normal. Typical.

Nothing like a man who murdered a woman in cold blood, but you’ve learnt from previous cases that most of the time, the more innocent the suspect looks, the viler their crimes.

“Yang Seojun, is it? I’m sure you’re aware of why you’re here,” you state when you’re finally in the interrogation room, Haechan next to you. Outside, Doyoung watches intently on the screen.

“I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re asking.” There’s a wild look in his eyes, starkly different from the blank stare he had when he was first brought in. He’s reminiscent of a cornered animal, and it fills you with a strange sort of uneasiness.

“Relax, it’s not time for that yet. Where were you on the night of the murder?” Haechan questions, fingers drumming gently on the table. His face is illuminated by the glare of the laptop screen, reading glasses perched on his nose.

“At home.”

“Anyone who can provide an alibi?”

“I live alone.”

“You have two sexual harassment reports filed against you and one for disorderly behaviour, along with a report detailing your history with alchoholism. Is that correct?” Yang Seojun’s file feels heavy in your hands, but you’re familiar with it now after flipping through it incessantly.

He nods. “But I’m in rehabilitation now. And I haven’t…the report wasn’t proven. I didn’t harass Mijoo, I swear. I loved her. You have to believe me,” Seojun pleads, his hands on the table.

You swallow as you meet Seojun’s insistent gaze, averting your eyes from him. You’re not sure what to believe, which you suppose is the worst part of doing a job like this. The suspicion and doubt that it casts over everything, where you have to ignore your gut instinct because of the kind of people you deal with.

“Someone will come in later to verify your statement. You’ll be kept in custody for the next forty-eight hours. It would be a good idea to contact your lawyer, or any members of family.”

“I don’t have a lawyer. Or any other members of family,” he says lowly, and you suck in a breath, looking at Haechan, who seems as fatigued as you are. However, before either of you can respond, there’s a loud banging on the door, before it swings open.

“Jaemin, we’re right here. You don't have to break down the door,” Haechan chides. However, you’re unable to be amused at the joke, a concerned frown on your face. Jaemin is careful and gentle. He doesn’t bang on doors unnecessarily, or ever. However, he’s now frantic, eyes darting back and forth in a panic.

“Y/N. Haechan. There’s another body. They found it at the Han River. I don’t-” Haechan shoots up from the chair, immediately pushing Jaemin out of the room as he curses under his breath.

Seojun looks as taken aback at the news as you are, but you’re not willing to deny the possibility that he might be an excellent actor. You attempt to assess his response to no avail, and instead give up in favour of following after Jaemin. The piercing scrape of your chair against the floor causes you to cringe slightly, but you quickly recover.

“God damn it, Jaemin. The fucking suspect is in the room. You can’t just burst in and say that.”

Haechan’s tone is harsh, understandably so. However, any disagreements now will only make things even worse. Jaemin stands, looking admonished, and you place a gentle hand on Haechan’s arm to pull him back. Haechan’s eyes meet yours, and you remain silent, looking at him meaningfully. After what seems like a moment too long, Haechan steps back, running a hand roughly through his hair.

“Doyoung left to go down already. I-I’ll give you guys the address,” Jaemin forces out, getting a post-it and marker from his desk. His hands are trembling as he does so, the writing shaky and barely legible. Your heart pangs looking at him, but you know he’ll be fine eventually.

Now, you and Haechan have another body to inspect.

“Renjun, forensic pathologist. Good to meet you.” The man standing in front of you extends his arm out, and you smile tightly back as you shake his hand, grip firm. His features are delicate, pale white skin standing out sharply against his harshly cropped black hair. In his hand is a Ziploc bag, a few test tubes resting inside.

“I’ve completed the autopsy, and the likely cause of death is suffocation. However, the body has been in there for at least a week and putrefaction has set in extensively, so we can’t be entirely sure.”

Two weeks. That’s before even Mijoo’s death, and you can tell Haechan is thinking the same thing from his sharp exhale.

‘However, it seems like there are marks on the neck that have been made with a sharp weapon. They don’t seem like feeding marks from animals, which are on other parts of the body,” Renjun continues stoically, and you attempt to quell your nausea, which appeared the moment you saw the girl’s body, bloated and greenish-blue.

Gritting your teeth, you force yourself to nod, uttering a note of thanks to Renjun. Haechan follows after, patting Renjun on the back. His eyes had lit up with recognition at the sight of the forensic pathologist, and you realised they must have been colleagues at some point. Before Haechan came to your current workplace, he had a brief stint in pathology, while you had specialised in criminology. It was another reason why Doyoung had paired the both of you together. Combined, Haechan’s and your expertise made the perfect duo to assist him.

“On the bright side, the weather’s cold now. If it was summer, we might not even have a body anymore,” Haechan utters, and you rub your hands together reflexively. He’s trying to take your mind off the murder, but it’s quite difficult, considering this is literally what the both of you are paid to do.

“Seoul hasn’t seen a serial killer in twenty-five years. However, if these two cases are unlinked, that means we’ve got two murderers to find. Which just might be worse,” Doyoung replies, and you’re sure that the swirling worry in his orbs is reflected in yours.

“And we barely got anything from Seojun’s interrogation too. There isn’t any CCTV footage from where Mijoo was killed, and we haven’t been able to determine where the body from the river was dumped yet.”

“If the river freezes over, we’re fucking screwed,” you continue, now realizing that the situation is much direr than you expected. There are little leads, two dead bodies, and the time is quickly ticking away.

You’ll die before you let this become a cold case.

“Come on. We won’t be any more good standing here than back at the station.” Haechan tugs your arm in the direction of the car, and you follow him mindlessly. The trees around you are barren, the roads and buildings a shade of dusty grey. Winter is usually your favourite season, but all it does now is fill you with a sense of numbing coldness.

You’re flipping through the autopsy report when Haechan comes to your desk, two coffee mugs in hand. “Thanks,” you say as you take a large sip, feeling the warmth course through your body.

The newest victim is Park Sunhee, twenty-three years old. She was last seen on her university campus, attending a lecture on a Friday morning. And then no one heard of her whereabouts, and her friends assumed she had gone home to visit her family over the winter break.

Until her cold body washed up on the shore of the Han river, discovered by a horrified couple.

What’s the link between the both of them? Is there even one? Think, Y/N, think.

Haechan can see the invisible gears turning in your head, and he decides to leave you to it, going back to his desk. Despite the fact that both of you have this case on your hands, there’s still plenty of administrative work to clear. He takes the stack of unread files from where they sit untouched on your table, and you’re so lost in thought that you don’t even realise

Until your personal phone rings, jolting you out of your reverie. You make sure the door closes behind you before you speak again.

“This is L/N Y/N. May I know who I am speaking to?”

”Hello.” The voice that comes out is a smooth timbre, almost pleasing to the ear. It’s obviously a man, and you furrow your eyebrows, not recognizing who it is.

“Apologies for disturbing you. This is Woo Eunhyuk. I tried calling the station and my call did not get through. Is now a good time?”

The businessman, you realize. And suspect number two. You immediately get out of your chair and exit the glass doors of the office, Haechan’s eyes following you. You’re known not to take personal calls during work hours, so why the change now? Still, he remains in his chair, unmoving.

“You can speak now,” you say.

“My secretary just informed me of what happened to Mijoo. I’m sorry for calling back so late. Quite unfortunate, isn’t it?”

Your first thought is that he doesn’t seem to find it very unfortunate at all, but you suppose everyone has a different way of coping with loss. After all, you’re not even sure if he and Mijoo are as close as Xiaoting claims. For all you know, the poor man has nothing to do with any of this.

“Apologies for the inconvenience caused, Mr Woo, but we’ll need you to come down to the station as soon as you return. I hope you can understand.” You’re pacing across the hallway as you say it, and you’re not entirely sure why you feel slightly intimidated by the man on the phone.

“Of course. I’ll be there within the week. Y/N, was it? I’ll remember the name,” he mutters, and there’s almost a smug charm to the way he speaks. The way he says your name rubs you off the wrong way, and you find yourself shivering despite the lack of air-conditioning in the room.

“Senior Inspector Y/N. You may refer to me as that. If you need anything else, do call the station.” you say coldly, and hear what seems to be a muffled chuckle before you hang up. However, it’s cut off much too quickly for you to be sure.

“Hey, what was that?” Haechan asks, and you’re about to tell him, but you hesitate. He’d definitely worry if he knew that Woo Eunhyuk called you personally, and you don’t want to add more unnecessary burden to the case. After all, he’s already coming down to the station by this week.

“Nothing. Just a family friend asking something,” you respond, smiling slightly, and Haechan nods, turning back to his computer.

“Sorry for making you come in so late. Two days before New Year’s Eve, no less,” you say, attempting to plaster a polite smile on your face. Opposite you sits Woo Eunhyuk, in a tailored suit and hair gelled back neatly. The watch on his hand likely costs more than your yearly salary, but you ignore it.

“It’s my fault for being overseas and returning at the last minute. Honestly, if there hadn’t been so many delays at the airport, I would have saved you much more time.” His teeth are pearly-white and perfectly aligned as he smiles at you, and you can’t help but see the disparity between him and Mijoo’s ex-boyfriend.

“I’ll keep this short then. I’ll need information about your relationship with Mijoo and your whereabouts on the day itself.”

“I met Mijoo one year ago. The bar is one I patronise often, and I bring my clients there. Mijoo was overseeing our tables quite a few times, and she was good at memorising preferences and striking up a conversation, so I tipped her extra to wait on my tables when I was there.”

“Did your relationship with her ever extend outside of the workplace?” Your question seems to make Eunhyuk pensive, and he shifts in his seat before nodding.

“We were romantically involved for a while, and I will admit we were quite close. Physically and emotionally. But she eventually broke it off because of work, and we maintained a professional relationship. We were good friends up until her death.” There’s a note of sorrow in his voice now, and Eunhyuk stares off blankly into space as he says it. Does he still love her? It sounds so different from the voice you heard on the phone, but you suppose the questions are forcing him to relive unwanted memories.

However, he clears his throat, snapping out of the temporary trance. A smile makes its way onto his face again, so rapidly that it confuses you.

“On the night she passed away, I was in my study. My house staff are usually sleeping at that time, so no one can verify it. However, I can send you the footage from the security cameras in my foyer and garage. Would that be sufficient to prove that I was home?” He asks, and you nod hesitantly.

When Eunhyuk leaves, you’re left with the thumb drive of his security footage, which you run through. He isn’t lying. Which you suppose leaves you with one obvious option. Still, you feel as if there’s something missing, tugging at your brain, but you can’t remember what. A confirmation of some sort, to verify your suspicions.

The file on Park Sunhee is painfully thin, but everything you need to know is there. She goes to Yonsei University and majors in architecture and works a part-time job at a cafe.

Your mind comes to a screeching halt, the image of Yang Seojun flashing into your mind.

Yang Seojun in the interrogation room, wild-eyed and frantic.

Yang Seojun in the interrogation room, wearing a Yonsei University jersey.

Your hands are trembling as you switch on your laptop, but you keep going until you find Seojun’s suspect report.

It feels inevitable, the few moments that hang in the balance before you scroll down to what you’re looking for.

Major: Architecture, 2nd year, reads the report, and despite everything, a slight smile makes its way onto your face. You immediately pick up your phone, and the ringing of the call tone is the only thing that you can hear.

“Doyoung. I figured it out.”

It all seems to happen too fast for you to process.

There’s a final interrogation with Seojun before he’s dragged off, the last reckoning for him to defend himself.

However, Seojun seems defeated, almost withdrawn. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he’s considerably thinner than the last time you saw him. However, he doesn't resist when the officers come, handcuffs ready.

“There are witnesses who verified seeing him with Sunhee last, and that they dated for about three months before a messy breakup. He was also at the Han River late at night a month before, which corresponds with the estimated time of Sunhee’s death,” was what you had said to Doyoung and Haechan the morning before. They had nodded, Doyoung patting you on the back gently in commendation. You had finally allowed a glimmer of pride to make its way onto your face.

It fits the bill almost too perfectly, like a poorly written plot for a television show. Yet, you’re sure of it like you’ve never been surer of anything else.

There’s a gentle peace that fills you as you watch Seojun leave, even as the way he holds your gaze unsettles you.

“It’s over,” Haechan mumbles, and your shoulders sag, but you feel light.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Happy New Year!” Jaemin exclaims, and you jump at the sound of the champagne bottle popping. You’re smiling, and it’s the most genuine smile you’ve had in the past two months.

The champagne goes down smoothly, leaving a trail of fizzy bubbles in its wake. Even Doyoung’s happier, mouth wide open in a toothy grin. Renjun’s here too, along with Chenle and Jisung, the evidence technicians. You’ve all worked together, and you’ve made it.

“Good job, everyone. To a new year,” Doyoung toasts, barely catching himself from stumbling. Everyone cheers, and you simply grin from where you’re sitting with Haechan. He meets your gaze, and tilts his head, refusing to tear his eyes away from you. For some reason, you feel your cheeks heating up, and you quickly avert your gaze.

You’re sure that if you looked at him now, he’d be smirking, the cocky bastard.

Solving the case has left you all too heady and excited, which is a bad condition to make decisions in. You’re tempted to be impulsive, now that there’s less to worry about. You shake your head in a futile attempt to clear it, and hastily get up, making a beeline for the hallway, away from the festivities.

“Y/N.” Haechan’s voice is distinctly clear in the silence of the hallway, and you turn to look at him from where you’re leaning against the wall, mug in hand, It’s quite funny, really, how Doyoung had forgotten to bring champagne glasses, forcing all of you to use the coffee cups instead.

“Donghyuck,” you reply, and Haechan pauses slightly. He supposes he’ll never really get used to you using his birth name, but he doesn’t particularly mind it. He leans against the wall with you, shoulder to shoulder, and the both of you stand like that for a while, in comfortable silence.

“Do you remember when we were in our third year of university? When we had that stupid argument over whether a criminal justice major or a forensic science major was more important?” You suddenly ask, and Haechan lets out a laugh.

“Of course I do. You didn’t talk to me for a week after that,” he teases, and you huff in exasperation.

“Well yeah, because you were annoying,” you whine, and Haechan simply rolls his eyes.

“Sure, whatever you say. Why are you bringing it up now, though?” Haechan asks, gaze alight with curiosity. You remain quiet for a while, and Haechan’s about to repeat his question when you finally respond.

“I’m just thinking about what twenty-two-year-old Y/N and Donghyuck would say if they saw us now. I think they would be proud,” you murmur, and Haechan immediately grabs your hand, flashing a soft smile at you.

“Yeah. I think they would.”

“Y/N! Haechan! What are you guys doing out here? Come back in. Jisung brought cake,” Chenle shouts from where he’s standing, and your attention is immediately drawn to him.

“Come on, let’s go,” Haechan urges, tugging you along by your arm without a second thought.

“Wait. The phone’s ringing. I’ll get it,” you say once you enter the office. Everyone else is too caught up in rowdy conversation to hear it, and you attempt to balance the paper plate that Renjun handed to you, a slice of cake in the middle.

“Hello, this is Officer Kim from the Metropolitan Police Agency in Gangnam.”

“Yes, how may I help you?”

Your attention is quickly drawn to the rest, however, as you realise they’ve started counting down.

It happens in slow-motion, as most momentous things do.

Five. The words of the officer on the phone sink in, and you blink slowly.

Four. Your grip on the receiver loosens, and you feel it slip from your hands.

Three. The cake follows quickly after, landing in a mushy heap on the ground.

Two. The barely-audible, confused voice of Officer Kim rings out, asking if you can still hear him.

One. You sink to the ground, unmoving, not daring to breathe. No. This can’t be real.

It’s like there’s a muffle over your ears, as if you’re submerged in water, even as you’re vaguely aware that the other guys are cheering while watching the fireworks come up from the city centre. It feels like hours before the office suddenly falls silent, and they realise that you’re on the floor, champagne spilt, though it was likely less than a minute.

Haechan’s the first to enter your line of sight, his pink hair in your peripheral vision. His face comes into focus despite the blur of your surroundings.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He’s crouched down to your level, hands on your shoulders, eyes worried as he scans you for signs of injury.

Your mouth refuses to form words, even as you look up at him, eyes desperate. The only thing you can do is shake your head insistently.

As if that will change the situation.

Doyoung, observant as ever, is the first to pick up the receiver. Haechan watches as his expression turns stone-faced, and he hangs up.

The office is silent, everyone else looking at Doyoung, holding their breaths.

“What is it,” Haechan demands, his tone firm as he holds Doyoung’s gaze. There’s very little that shocks Doyoung, but Haechan thinks this might just be the first.

“Another body. Still fresh. Barely died an hour ago, in fact.” Everyone’s eyes are wide, not sure what to do with the news.

“No. No. It can’t be. We found Seojun. There’s proof.” Your words come out broken and clipped, as you shake your head frantically. You’re shaking, and Haechan, for once, is at a loss on what to do.

Renjun’s the first to regain control of the situation, telling Chenle and Jisung to get their things and pushing Doyoung in the direction of the office. Haechan looks at him expectantly, knowing that he should likely be getting ready to leave as well, but unwilling to leave your side.

Renjun immediately sees the torn expression on Haechan’s face, and he understands. You’re his friend too, after all.

“Bring Y/N home, Haechan. She’s probably gone through a shock. We only need you guys there tomorrow anyways, after we’ve done the autopsy.” Haechan looks at Renjun then, nodding before gently helping you up. It’s at times like these when he’s grateful for the older boy, who always seems to know what’s on his mind.

You’re quiet, eyes glassy even as you get into Haechan’s car and he drives in the direction of your apartment. His gaze darts to you every so often, and Haechan thinks he’d give anything to know what’s on your mind right now.

However, there’s nothing much he can do other than get you to down a cup of hot tea and aspirin, so that you’re not hungover tomorrow. You’re quick to sink into a fitful sleep, and Haechan decides to leave you to rest, reluctantly closing the bedroom door behind him. He takes a quick shower in the guest bathroom, and watches a show mindlessly on the television. He’s not enjoying it, but it helps his mind to blank, and that’s sufficient for now.

It’s so cold.

That’s the only thought in your head as you shiver violently. The cold is piercing to the bone, almost painful, and it’s so dark that you can’t see your own hands in front of you. You feel strangely weightless, as if there’s something holding you up. It’s almost comfortable, except for the fact that you’re beginning to feel numb from the chill.

Until you inhale, and instead of air entering your lungs, it’s water.

You’re drowning.

Your limbs move frantically, but you’re no longer weightless. You’re heavy. So very heavy, that even as you can see the surface above you, it seems so very far away.

Precious oxygen bubbles out of your mouth, and you can feel your lungs burning, struggling to keep you moving. Your eyes are burning from the water, and your limbs getting more sluggish.

Fear fills you, frigid and unrelenting, as you twist your head frantically.

You let out your first scream when you start sinking even further, the dim light of the moon draining away bit by bit, along with your strength.

No one can hear you, not even yourself.

You’re still screaming when you wake up.

“Jesus, Y/N. What happened?” Haechan’s voice is frantic, and he’s leaning over you. It takes a while for his features to become clear in the dimness of the room, and you blink slowly, taking in your surroundings. In another situation, you’d likely be flustered from how close his face is to yours. However, you’re still trembling uncontrollably, cold sweat beading on your forehead and neck.

Before you know it, you’re sitting up, Haechan’s arms around your body and your face nestled in his neck. He’s warm, and you find your heartbeat slowing down slightly from its breakneck pace. Haechan’s hands smooth over your back gently, and he offers you his presence wordlessly, waiting for you to speak.

“I had a…nightmare. That I was Park Sunhee, and I was the one drowning,” you mumble lowly, but you know Haechan can hear you.

You expect him to chide you, perhaps. You know you get too involved in the cases, and feel too much for the victims. A double-edged sword, you suppose. It’s not the best thing for someone who has such an occupation, but you can’t help it. Even as you try to tear your thoughts away from them, you can’t.

Mijoo. Sunhee. And the newest victim. You don’t even know her name yet, but she’ll probably haunt your nights as much as the two of them do.

“How long has this been going on?” Haechan’s tone is gentle, however, as he helps you upright to face him, eyes roaming over your face. His hand comes up to brush your cheek gently, to wipe a stray tear that you didn’t even know escaped.

“I’m not sure. A week after we found Mijoo, maybe?” Your voice is hoarse, and hearing the unfiltered fear in it fills Haechan with pain. That’s almost two whole months.

He realises that there was more to your newfound exhaustion in the office, the dark circles that appeared suddenly. Haechan had assumed it was just the normal toll of taking on such a large case, along with your tendency to stay up late. He hadn't questioned it, but now he desperately wishes he had sooner.

Maybe if he did, he could have done something. And you wouldn’t be here, tortured by repeated nightmares that had you waking up screaming.

He wonders how many nights you had to do this alone, waking up to stare into the darkness of your room.

“You’re safe here, Y/N.”

“I know.. It’s just-it’s okay. I’ll be fine. Thank you for being here.” your voice trails off, and Haechan understands, even without you making it clear.

“Get some rest, alright? We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” he reminds, and a shaky smile makes its way onto your face, despite the fear that hasn’t entirely cleared from your heart.

Haechan stands up, but not before he makes sure you’re lying back down, pillow adjusted comfortably.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, okay?” Haechan makes his way to the door, and despite his reminder, you’re seized by a slight panic.

“Wait. Donghyuck,” you call out, and he turns back, eyes expectant. Almost as if he’s waiting for you to ask him something.

“Can you stay? Just for tonight. Please.” Your voice is honest, vulnerable, as you look at Haechan, his face half-lit by the light from your living room.

It feels like too many moments pass, your heart dangling on a precipice, before he nods, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. There’s a faint smile on his face as you move over and he climbs in next to you.

“Is this okay?” He asks, when the both of you are finally facing each other, his face barely inches from yours. His arm is loosely wrapped around your waist, and your head is curled into his chest. “Yeah,” you reply and it comes out muffled in the quiet of the room.

The regular sound of his heartbeat in your ear is oddly calming, and you finally feel your breathing ease up. Haechan’s warmth is the last thing you think of before you drift off, and it’s the first dreamless sleep you have in weeks.

The camera footage is played. Again, and again. Yet, there’s nothing besides the buzzing static and a screen that fades to an endless black. It doesn’t make any sense. Gangnam is one of the safest districts in the entire city, and there were police milling around at every corner.

In spite of that, thirty-five-year-old Song Chaeyeon was dead in an alley, head bashed into the wall. She was thirty-four the last time you met her in the club, a hardened woman who didn’t seem to want anything to do with the investigation.

And now, she was never going to turn any older.

“There has to be something we’re missing. Maybe Seojun has an accomplice-”

“Or it might just not be him.” Haechan cuts you off, and your footsteps skid to a halt from where you’re pacing.

It’s the truth that you don’t want to admit, but he’s always been straight to the point.

You scatter the photographs over the kitchen island of his apartment, arranging them in order. As if some sort of connection will fall from the sky if you stare at them hard enough. It’s been less than three days since Chaeyeon’s body was discovered, and less than forty-eight hours since you collapsed on the floor of the station.

“Y/N. You haven’t had any food all day. At least eat something before we continue.” There’s a pot of ramen balanced carefully in Haechan’s hands, but you ignore the smell that makes your mouth water. The moment your mind drifts back to the image of Chaeyeon and her neck at an unnatural angle, your appetite dissipates into thin air.

“I’m fine.” You shake your head resolutely, turning back to the photographs. Ironically enough, Criminal Minds is playing on the television in the background, as if mocking you. You try not to tug at your hair too hard, even as you fiddle with it out of frustration.

“You have to eat, you know that-”

“I have to solve this case, Donghyuck! If you don’t want to help, fine. Just don’t be in my way,” you burst out, and he falls dead silent, staring at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes. You inhale sharply, rubbing at your eyes.

“You’re not responsible for their deaths, Y/N,” he says softly, a knowing gaze in his honey-brown eyes.

You hate Haechan a little in that moment. You hate the way he looks at you, understanding the fear and confusion swirling in your heart. Most of all, you hate that he’s right, that you’re not responsible for any of this. You wish you were, that you knew a way to stop it. But you’re helpless in the face of an invisible perpetrator.

The room suddenly feels a little too stuffy, your collared blouse tightening around your throat. You’re consumed with the need to clear your head, and your fingers scrabble for your bag. You turn impatient when you’re unable to find the familiar packet, tipping the entire pouch over.

Haechan watches your motions, half-confused and pensive, until he frowns, grabbing onto your wrist tightly.

“Y/N. I thought we talked about this.” His grip is stronger than yours, and forces the pills in your grasp to be held up high, even clear under the ceiling light. The accusing tone in his voice forces your gaze to tear away from him guiltily, and you shrink back.

“You know I only take them when it gets bad,” you explain, but Haechan remains unmovable, quickly plucking the packet from your grip and throwing them in the bin. “They’re painkillers, not magic. You can’t rely on them for everything.”

“Haechan, my stomach really fucking hurts-”

“Then eat. You need proper meals to get better, not some-” he lets out an agitated exhale, before continuing, “-chemicals that will only make you feel worse.”

It’s not that Haechan’s a disbeliever of modern medicine, but he knows you know that you’re not sick, not the kind that requires this sort of medicine. But the sharply bitter taste is oddly comforting, especially when you feel your abdomen cramp from a combination of nerves and stress.

You wouldn’t call yourself reliant on it - addiction is a dangerous line to tread, and you have no intention of ever crossing it, but it seems to appear more often whenever your work gets particularly difficult.

And it seems these past few months have been particularly bad, if the sleeping pill bottle on your nightdesk and the multiple chamomile tea packets are anything to go by.

Still, the warm concern in his eyes is enough for your shoulders to sink, relenting to his better intentions. You know that this is something Haechan won’t back down on, and it makes you feel a little better, the knowledge that even if you don’t have your best interests in mind, there’s someone who does.

You swallow thickly, finally meeting his eyes. “I know. I’m- I’m sorry I lashed out at you. That was unnecessary. And I’ll try to reduce the Panadol to zero,” you promise, hands falling to rest on the countertop. There’s guilt and fear swirling in your eyes, and Haechan’s heart breaks a little at the sight of it.

He cross the kitchen island and wordlessly wraps you in a hug towards him while you lean your head into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his musk soap. The both of you know each other well enough that there isn’t much of a need to exchange words.

You’re grateful for his presence, more than he’ll ever know. You’re not sure if you’ll ever find the words to thank him, sufficient sentences to string together to express your gratitude.

But for now, the both of you remain standing under his kitchen light, and you can’t help but think that it feels nice to have someone’s warmth against yours.

However, it seems that having Haechan by your side still isn’t quite enough, especially when you wake up in a cold sweat in the darkness of the room.

Your hand scrabbles across the bedsheet, frantic, before it finally lands on his warm palm, causing your breathing to slow a little.

You’ve made a habit of sleeping next to Haechan whenever one of you stays over, which is most days. It seems that it’s becoming harder and harder to pass the night alone, even if you’ve checked the lock twice and closed all the windows. You’re not sure if he minds, and you’re too afraid to ask.

“Y/N. Hey. Look at me,” Haechan’s voice cuts through the silence of the room like a knife, and you’re not sure when he helped you up to a sitting position. You’re still shaking slightly, his eyes drowsy but concerned as he looks at you.

It’s awful, the way this irrational fear digs its claws into you and refuses to let go. You’ve handled cases worse than this. And it makes you feel even more guilty that Haechan is the one left to handle the aftermath, to hold you together. You’re supposed to be his partner, not dead weight.

You close your eyes, as if to prevent you from confronting something you don’t want to. “It’s nothing, Hyuck. I’m sorry for waking you.” Your soft apology carries a note of burdened guilt in it, and it makes Haechan’s heart twist uncomfortably in his chest.

He wishes he can rub away the tears budding at the corners of your eyes, but he decides to settle for intertwining your fingers with his.

“Don’t apologise for this. Tell me if there’s anything I can do to make it better. Anything,” he promises, and the way he whispers it makes it feel like a confession.

There’s no one else in this room except the both of you, and what happens will stay within these walls.

Perhaps that’s what pushes you to lean forward and slot your lips over his in a moment of poor thinking.

For a fleeting moment, Haechan returns it with equal fervour before he seems to regain his senses, freezing in his cross-legged position on the bed before he pushes against your shoulders gently but insistently. You try not to let the hurt show on your face at his open rejection.

“Y/N- what-”

He’s definitely awake now, bewildered at your actions. At least he isn’t looking at you in disgust, which means the situation is less dire than it could have been. You swallow heavily, before refocusing on him.

“You said- I could tell you if there was anything you could do to make it better,” you stutter out, and Haechan nods slowly, as if unsure of what he’s agreeing to. His eyes dart down to your lips temporarily, and you wonder if it’s temptation that fills his gaze.

It definitely isn’t love, or maybe it is. You’re too scared to ask.

“Then let me have this. Please. I need a distraction, or something like it,” you plead.

You can’t bring yourself to care if he breaks your heart, if you have to swallow your feelings for him and let them wilt away. You’ll happily take whatever pieces of himself he’s willing to give, because how could you not?

You know this isn’t a normal request, that it’ll probably change the trajectory of your friendship with him permanently.

But Haechan and you are far from normal at this point. From the mix of fear and desire evident in his eyes, you guess that the man in front of you is thinking the same as well.

The waiting is almost painful, as you look at him with bated breath. Yet, it’s likely only a few moments before Haechan nods, clearing up the heavy feeling in your chest instantaneously and filling you with a longing so desperate that steals the air out of your lungs.

This time, when you lean in, he doesn’t pull away.

It takes one week of fruitless investigations before Doyoung finally snaps and decides to bring everyone out to unwind, promising that he’ll pay for a few rounds. Haechan can feel stress creeping at the back of his neck by the time the clock hits six, and he’s quite sure it’s not just because of the case.

He can’t stop thinking about kissing you. Well, kissed. He kissed you, and then the both of you never spoke about it after. He knows very well that it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, fueled by a cocktail of exhaustion and fear that seemed like desire when sufficiently intoxicated. Pretending it never happened, however, still leaves a bitter taste in Haechan’s mouth, even if he knows that there are larger things at hand.

It might not have meant anything to you. But for Haechan, who has been harbouring feelings for you for close to three years, it means everything.

He had heard of you from his lecture deskmate, the criminal justice major who had aided in a major financial investigation at nineteen - to say you were a bit of a prodigy was an understatement.

When his Criminology professor had assigned the both of you together for a lecture, he had been brimming with excitement to finally see you in person.

But that admiration had only remained as friendship - until five hundred and twelve days ago, when the both of you had been sitting on the floor of your apartment, a long-opened bottle of wine between the both of you.

You had tried to kiss him then too. But Haechan had been sober, and he didn’t want you to do anything you might regret, even if there was disappointment in your eyes when he gently pushed you back by your shoulders.

He tried not to make it too obvious the next morning, when you had shuffled into the kitchen and made no mention of it.

And now, five hundred and twelve days later - he was still nowhere near getting rid of his feelings.

It had only gotten worse once you had pulled him close in the darkness of your bedroom, and Haechan supposes part of it is karma kicking him in the ass. No good person would take advantage of their friend’s vulnerable emotional state to get what they want, especially not when said friend was his best friend of half a decade.

But Haechan’s not a beacon of virtue, as much as he would like to be, and he can’t help but cave when it comes to you. If a distraction was what you needed, he would gladly provide it as many times as you needed, even if it meant his heart fractured a little each time you joked around with him nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just have his lips against yours a few nights ago.

“Here, take this.” Renjun appears at the right time, and passes Haechan a cocktail that’s an unnatural-looking shade of blue. “What’s this?” He can’t help but peer at it suspiciously before taking a tentative sip. It’s sour, the sharp taste of vodka immediately searing its way down his throat before quickly being soothed by an artificial lemon syrup .

“Blue lagoon. It’s Y/N’s favourite, so I thought I’d give it a try. Speaking of which, where is she?”

Haechan realises a bit too late that everyone is looking at him for an answer, and he shrugs helplessly. “How would I know?”

“Because you’re always attached to the hip with her. The last time she called in sick, we got an email from you before her doctor,” Chenle blurts out, causing Jaemin to nod in assent.

Haechan rubs a hand over his face tiredly. Truth be told, he is curious about why you haven’t contacted him at all today. “Just- don’t ask me about Y/N right now.” His curt response immediately captures the attention of the rest, Renjun’s eyes alight with curiosity.

“Did something happen?”

It takes one look at Haechan’s face for everyone to realise that something did happen. “Look, it wasn’t anything much. She had a bad dream, and then we kissed,” he confesses, and Chenle’s eyes widen slightly.

“Slow down. How do those two link?”

“She needed comforting. I was there,” Haechan explains, trying his darnedest to not lose his composure. Rehashing the events only makes him feel like he’s going through it again. “I always knew the both of you had something weird going on,” Jaemin mutters, emptying his cup. Renjun elbows him lightly, before focusing on Haechan. “So what are you going to do about it?”

He falls silent at that question, fingers drumming against the smooth marble of the bar counter. He doesn’t know, and that’s the worst part. Haechan doesn’t know if he should say fuck it and confess his feelings, potentially risking your rejection and making whatever the both of you have now awkward, or if he should remain silent.

“You should probably speak to her,” Renjun says, and that’s probably the only good piece of advice Haechan has received all day.

The only question is, where the hell are you?

Doyoung comes into the room then, but there’s no alcohol in his hand. Instead, his eyebrows are set deeply in worry, knuckles clenched white from how hard he’s holding the phone. Haechan has never seen his supervisor so unsettled before, and it makes fear swirl in his chest. He calls out Doyoung’s name, and the man’s head snaps sharply to the left, as if jerked out of a daydream.

The other guys have picked up on it by now, and Doyoung scans his eyes over the room before exhaling shakily. “It’s Y/N,” he forces out. “She hasn’t been home since yesterday, and her neighbour just filed a missing person report.” He shuts his eyes and lets out a groan of worry, and it’s evident that Doyoung’s thinking of the worst-case scenario.

It takes many long moments before Doyoung’s words land, but when they finally do, Haechan thinks he might puke. The alcohol now feels like a terrible idea as it threatens to escape, pushing uncomfortably at his stomach. Nausea is nothing compared to the dread that floods his veins, however, at the thought of you meeting harm, of being in a situation that you can’t get out of.

You’re one of the people he loves the most in the world, and Haechan’s not sure if you know that enough.

He knows that the room explodes into commotion around him, and that Renjun is letting out curse after curse, but it falls to deaf ears. Haechan grabs his jacket and rushes out before anyone can realise, but he’s quick to sink to his feet at the curb, anger and fear bleeding into his sunken shoulders.

There’s nowhere for him to go, because you’re gone.

You figure out that something is terribly, terribly wrong when the room you wake up in is unfamiliar. There’s a sharp pain that burns up your wrists when you attempt to move them, the rope chafing against sore skin. It’s nothing compared to the panic that overtakes you after assessing your surroundings, however.

The air around you is heavy with the stench of garbage, and you wrinkle your nose slightly.

There’s only a small rectangular window that lets light in, the glass cracked and dirty. Below your feet is a rough cement floor, and one door lies to your right.

It’s the only way in and out, and you don’t see any visible way to unlock it.

There’s a heavy thud from the outside right as you turn your head away, before the door swings open slowly.

The first face you see is unfamiliar. The second, however, fills you with an overwhelming nausea.

In front of you stands Woo Eunhyuk, looking entirely out of place in the dingy room with his carefully polished shoes and ivory-white blouse. Pristine, and nowhere near belonging in a place like this. But now you know what lies beneath that clean exterior, and it terrifies and disgusts you in equal measure.

“I should’ve figured it was you,” you say, voice dripping with venom as you glare at the culprit responsible for all of the deaths and your kidnapping. Eunhyuk, however, only smiles smugly as he peers down at you. “To be fair to you, Officer, I am quite talented at covering my tracks.”

He’s proud. Arrogant as he boasts about it, as if being a cold-hearted killer is something to be rewarded for. It fills you with disgust, but you try not to make it too plain on your face. You need to be careful, and buy time, at least until you have a chance of surviving.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

You suppose it’s not the wisest question to ask when you’re trying to distract Eunhyuk from that exact conclusion, but you feel a need to know why your body hasn’t ended up in an alley or face-down in the river yet.

“I wasn’t planning to until you started meddling too much. Digging into information you weren’t supposed to find,” he sneers. Eunhyuk’s confirming your suspicions of yesterday, the trail that you had just begun to follow. Considering he was the only other plausible suspect, you had done a deep dive into his records and found years of correspondence with Chaeyeon, some of which bordering into threats.

It took one visit down to the club to make your fears real, when Xiaoting finally divulged the truth.

“Xiaoting, I need you to tell me if Eunhyuk had any sort of conflict with Chaeyeon,” you plead insistently. There’s a stricken look on the red-haired girl’s face, and she’s evidently distraught. You refuse to let up, however, and it feels like a battle of wills takes place in her mind before she makes a decision.

“You can’t tell anyone this. Not until Woo Eunhyuk is behind bars. If not, none of us will be safe,” she whispers. You nod, a silent promise, even as fear climbs up your spine.

“He’s an important investor here. But lately, the rent’s been rising, and Chaeyeon can’t pay back his share. Especially after Mijoo’s death, fewer and fewer customers are coming. He’s been having quarrels with her regularly, and we’re not meant to overhear them, but Chaeyeon was worried that something might happen, so she got me to keep recordings of the conversations. And now look at her.”

“Is there any way you can send me the recordings?”

“Give me a few days. The police have been sorting through Chaeyeon’s stuff after she died, and I’m not sure where the thumb drives are,” Xiaoting promises, and you can tell the girl’s lip is raw from her biting it out of worry.

“If Eunhyuk really is the culprit behind all of this-” you hesitate, but there’s a look of steely determination behind her eyes.

“Promise me you’ll make him pay. Men like him, they think they can do what they want, because they have the money. But I’ve lost Mijoo and Chaeyeon. I don’t want to see another one of my friends left dead.” Her voice has a tinge of cruelty to it, but you understand all too well the pain that it hides.

You’re afraid that you might not be able to fulfil that promise after all, consider how you’re currently at Eunhyuk’s mercy as well.

“But don’t worry. I won’t kill you yet. I quite enjoy watching the people down at the station scrabble to try and find you. Especially your partner. He seems particularly distraught. What was his name again? Haechan?”

There’s a jolt of pain in your heart at the name, a worse feeling than that of your injuries.

Eunhyuk smirks at the obvious change in expression on your face.

“More than just partners, it seems. It’s a pity, you know. I thought you were a pretty one. I’ll decide what to do with you eventually.” You bite back a shudder when he caresses your face gently, watching as he leaves the room. A soft exhale escapes you when the door locks shut resolutely, even if that’s the escape route closed off to you.

But you refuse to give up just yet. Your brain is running a mile a minute as you think of possible ways that you can make it out, but every second that passes only makes you more hopeless. Both your feet and hands are bound to the chair that you’re on, tight enough to cut off circulation if you move too much.

You wonder what’s running through Haechan’s mind now, if the panic is getting to his head. You’re not sure if you’ll get to see him again, and you can’t bear the thought of letting him blame himself for your death.

As much as the man keeps everything maintained under a smooth veneer of confidence, you know your partner much too well, that he’s someone who picks up responsibility even if it isn’t his.

It’s funny how the thought of him brings a small semblance of comfort to you, even in a situation such as this.

And then something comes to you. A possible path out, a semblance of a fighting chance offered by no one but the man himself.

You wiggle your wrist slightly, even though it’s numb, and almost let out a sob of relief when you feel the cool metal against your skin.

Haechan had given you a bracelet for your birthday last year, engraved with your initials, along with many other things. You had made a habit of wearing it daily, but ornamentation wasn’t its only function.

“Haechan, I can take care of myself,” you assure, but the boy shuts you up with a determined look as he places the bracelet on your wrist.

“Better safe than sorry considering the line of work we’re in. If you’re ever in danger, just press this-” He presses down on the button to drive his point- “and I’ll immediately know where to find you. Okay?”

“Fine. But you have to wear one too. You’re not the only one who might need saving,” you retort, and he barks out a laugh, reaching into his hoodie. The smooth metal chain is pinched between his fingers.

“Already got mine. We’re matching now, I suppose.” His words bring a blush to your cheeks.

You’ve never been more grateful for his foresight in your life as you fiddle around, gritting your teeth in pain when the rope slides a little too harshly. There’s sweat dripping down the side of your forehead, but you ignore it. However, your fingers eventually find the bracelet on your other hand, and you exert just enough pressure to feel the mechanism unlock and let out a soft beep.

There’s a harsh exhale that escapes you once you’re done, and you sink back into the chair. Hope is a dangerous thing, you realise, but it’s the only emotion you can cling on to besides despair.

For now, you’ll wait, and place your trust in Haechan.

You hear the footsteps before they reach you.

There’s shouting, audible even through the walls. For a moment, your heart soars with hope.

And then the man who had accompanied Eunhyuk bursts in, and it comes crashing down. He cuts off the ropes binding you, but not before there’s a pair of handcuffs locked securely around your wrist. “Get the fuck up before I put a knife in you,” he rasps harshly, jerking you up by your arm and dragging you behind him. “You wouldn’t dare without your boss,” you retort, and he narrows his eyes at you.

The resulting blow to your stomach knocks the breath out of your windpipe, even as you’ve tensed yourself in preparation for it. “Watch yourself. He doesn’t mind damaged goods. You’re dead sooner or later anyways,” he seethes.

“Glad…to see that you’ve actually got strength behind those arms of yours,” you wheeze out painfully.

He closes his hand in a fist again, and you prepare yourself for the inevitable. However, the footsteps are louder this time, and he thinks better of it, dragging you along with him.

You observe your surroundings as you pass the maze-like hallways into a larger room, one that looks like a garage. The walls are cracked and peeling, and you’re guessing this is an abandoned building of sorts.

Suddenly, the grip on your arms loosens slightly, and you notice Eunhyuk standing in front of you. He walks over, grabbing your chin roughly and leaning down until the both of you are eye level.

“How the fuck did your little friends find you?” He’s seething as he glares at you, but you smile, baring your teeth through the pain and the bruise that’s likely forming on your abdomen. “You should have just killed me when you had the chance.”

He smirks slightly at that. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“Woo Eunhyuk, hands up, or I’ll put this bullet through your skull. Don’t test me.”

The voice that you hear behind you makes you want to sink down in relief. It’s painfully familiar, the honeyed cadence of it something entirely unique to one person.

Haechan’s here.

He’s not the only one, as you turn to see Renjun next to him and a few other faces you don’t recognize. They’re fully attired, pistols in hand. His eyes can’t help but drift to you for a millisecond, hardening imperceptibly when he sees the dried blood on your forehead. Eunhyuk’s men hadn’t exactly been gentle when they ambushed you on the way home, and you only realised the ugly scratch on the side of your face much too late.

“Not so fast, Officer. You might want to be careful.” You’re dragged backwards before you know it, and the click of a loaded pistol against your temple makes your heart stop cold with fear.

Of course he has a gun. Laws don’t matter, not to a man like Eunhyuk, who believes that enough money will cover up any of his sordid deeds.

The impending possibility of death is very real now, and you try to put on a brave face, even as your feet tremble slightly. If not for yourself, at least for Renjun and Haechan.

“Killing me won’t do anything. You’re not getting away with this,” you bite out. You try not to think about the cold metal resting against your skin, and the trigger that is barely inches away from you.

“Let me go free, and I’ll give you back your precious colleague here. Otherwise, I’m blowing her brains out,” he threatens. From the way the rest don’t respond, you’re guessing Haechan’s the highest-ranking officer present, which means everyone’s waiting for his call.

It seems Eunhyuk grows impatient, however, and this time, you’re not prepared, letting out a guttural groan when he slams the gun into your right knee. Something definitely breaks then, and the crack that resounds in the space is almost worse than the pain itself.

Haechan begins to lower his gun.

“No!” you shout out, teeth gritted, and you’re met with a harsh slap to your head, one that leaves your ears ringing and the fresh coppery smell of blood filling your nose. “Shut up, bitch.”

Haechan looks at you, a conflicted expression in his eyes. He’s scared. The fear makes him look so much younger, reminiscent of the boy you met in university. His grip on the gun remains firm, however, and despite the pain flooding through your nerve endings, you let a glimmer of pride fill you at the person that Haechan’s become.

You shake your head insistently at his doubt, even as tears brim at the corner of your eyes. You’re terrified too, but you can’t let Eunhyuk go.

Not for Mijoo, Sunhee, or Chaeyeon.

If it means you’re going to die, then so be it.

There’s nothing that Renjun or Haechan can do, but there just might be an option for you. A risky one, but worth a try.

The last time you took self-defence lessons was before your graduation from the academy, and they were practised in a room with an instructor who did not have the intention to murder you, just to teach.

But the bravery that fills you upon accepting the hypothetical conclusion of death is liberating, and you find your brain rushing through possibilities now that you have nothing to lose.

I’m sorry, Donghyuck.

You close your eyes and suck in a sharp breath, as if it will prepare you for the worst, before you swing your head back and right into Eunhyuk’s nose. There’s a loud groan of pain from him, but you don’t give yourself time to wait before you turn and kick as high as you can.

There’s a loud gunshot, and you freeze for a moment. Perhaps this is it, and you’ve failed. The last few moments, before the bullet lands true and the pain comes.

And then the world restarts.

You’re jolted back when you hear the gun clatter loudly on the floor. By some pure stroke of luck, the bullet has missed you.

Eunhyuk stumbles back in pain, a hand over his bicep, and you quickly dawn upon the realization that it’s not his gun that has fired.

It was Haechan’s.

There’s blood rushing out, scarlet over his fingers, and it plays like a horrible montage, one that will stick in your worst nightmares.

One blink, and Eunhyuk sinks to the floor. A second blink, before there’s officers rushing over to pin him down to the floor

Another slow open-and-close of your eyes, and Haechan is in front of you. Everything is fading into black spots, and you’re quite sure the world is spinning around you. He remains in focus, however, and you try your best to muster a smile, even as the pain reaches a crescendo.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Everything’s fine now. Where else are you hurt?” He’s frantic now, facade slowly breaking and panic leaking into his voice as he inspects you for injuries.

You don’t get to thank Haechan for finding you before you collapse.

“Do you think we can convince him to go back?” Renjun asks, looking at the raven-haired man next to him. “Not likely. At most, he’ll hopefully get some sleep.”

The younger boy runs his hand through his hair tiredly, before turning down the hallway. “The doctor said everything’s alright. I’m worried too, but-”

“He loves her, Renjun. You’d do it for someone else too,” Doyoung chides, and Renjun knows he’s right.

Haechan hasn’t left your bedside for the past seventy-two hours, insisting on staying no matter what the others say. It’s barely enough for him that you thankfully don’t have a concussion, just skin injuries that will heal eventually. The exhaustion and adrenaline have just triggered a natural response by your body, and you’ll wake up when you’re ready.

Seeing you unresponsive on the hospital bed, however, is a sight similar to Haechan’s worst nightmares, almost identical the fears that keep him up at night. If he stays, he can make sure that the heart monitor maintains its stable beeping, and that you’re safe and sound in front of him.

His eyes are sinking closed, but Haechan resolutely keeps them open. The rest have returned back, the flowers from some of your acquaintances resting on the desk and adding some cheer to the dullness of the room. You would hate the hospital environment, Haechan thinks. It’s nothing like your house, cozy and full of little trinkets that you’ve collected over the years.

There’s one small comfort, at least, and it’s the vindication that Haechan gets at seeing Woo Eunhyuk dragged into the back of a police car. Renjun had to pull him back from beating the man up during the aftermath, the firm grip reminding Haechan that assault charges were still very much possible even when committed against a criminal.

But the murderous rage that fills Haechan at the thought of what Eunhyuk’s done to you feels all-consuming, and the only reason he hasn’t acted on it is that he knows you wouldn’t want him to. You’ve always been the calmer one to his irrational nature, tempering him before he gets too far.

Haechan needs you beside him to function, and it’s only been made all that much clearer by your absence.

He smooths his thumb over your palm, wondering if you'll feel it from whichever dreamscape you’re residing in.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, Y/N, but it’s over. We did it. Or you did it, really. We got the recordings from Xiaoting, and managed to dig up some other stuff. You’ll definitely want to see it in person. Which is why you’ve got to wake up. I need my partner here, you know?”

He lets out a soft laugh at his own statement, but it remains unanswered in the silence of the room.

Until your hand jerks slightly, and Haechan doesn’t dare to breathe as his gaze remains fixed on you.

He waits with bated breath, watching as your eyelids flit gently.

It’s too bright.

That’s the first thing you think of when you open your eyes to another unfamiliar room. For a moment, you’re seized painfully with fear again, thinking that you’re back where you started, in that dark, dirty room.

Until the sharp tang of antiseptic floods your nose, and you feel a warm palm over yours. Instead of the chair prodding into your back, there’s a soft bed. And instead of Eunhyuk’s face, there’s Haechan hovering gently over you, eyes alight with concern and relief.

“You’re awake,” he sighs out, and you reflexively try to sit up. There's a dull ache all over your body, but it's nothing you can't handle.

“How long have I been out?” You ask, throat dry from lack of use.

“Close to three days,” Haechan replies instantly, an unreadable look on his face as he adjusts the pillow behind your back carefully. You take a careful sip of the water handed to you, observing him from behind the rim of the cup.

There are dark circles evident under the corners of his eyes, and light stubble on his chin. Despite the obvious lack of rest, he still looks as beautiful as ever, the sight of him sending a jolt of affection to your heart.

A heavy silence rests in the room, symbolic of so many things left unsaid between the both of you. It beseeches you to say something, anything to dispel the tension looming over you and Haechan.

“Hyuck, I-”

“Y/N-”

You giggle slightly at the surprised look on Haechan’s face. “You first, then.”

He swallows nervously, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. But when Haechan lifts his head back up to look at you, there’s a certain quiet determination that rests in his gaze. You hold back a shiver at its insistence, as if he can see right through you like glass.

“When you were gone-” he starts, “I did a lot of thinking.”

“That’s new,” you say, and he rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips despite the sombre atmosphere. “I’m serious, Y/N. Those were the worst two days of my life, and I never want that to happen to you. I couldn’t stop thinking that if I’d been more careful-” Haechan sucks in a breath as if he’s in physical pain, and you instinctively reach out to hold him close to you, to soothe his hurt the only way you know how.

You hold his face between your hands, staring directly into his worried eyes and hoping that your words will get through. “Listen to me, Donghyuck. None of this was your fault.”

The furrow in his brows doesn’t leave, but the dark clouds in his expression clear just barely.

“The bracelet you gave me saved me. I’m never going to be able to thank you enough for that,” you continue, and he leans his cheek into your palm, as if thinking of a response. When he wraps his fingers around your wrist, holding your hand to the curve of his face, the fondness of the motion makes you smile.

“That wasn’t all I wanted to say. When you weren’t around, it was- difficult. Not just because I was worried, but because having you by my side makes everything easier. Better,” he admits, circling his thumb in gentle, soothing circles.

You’re not sure where he’s going with this, but you hold your breath, waiting. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, in sync with the wall clock that ticks away second by torturous second. The heady rush of anticipation fills you, and you feel as if you’re teetering on an invisible precipice, about to fall into oblivion.

“I love you. I wanted you to know that. It’s just- I realised I could lose you any time, and that’s worse than being rejected,” he says slowly, watching for your reaction.

There’s no surprise, no great revelation at his words. Instead, they settle into you like stones in a lake, barely making a splash. You’ve always known Haechan’s loved you, even if the idea of going further beyond friendship filled you with anxiety.

You’ve just been too scared to admit the truth.

To admit that you want him to hold you outside of when you have nightmares, that returning to either of your homes together makes warmth flood your chest. You’re someone who’s terrified of your dreams, but having him to wake up to makes the darkness a little easier to endure.

“I lied. When I said I just wanted a distraction.” Your hands are shaking, but you force yourself to continue. “I wanted you. I’m too much of a coward to admit it, but I do,” you breathe out shakily, feeling as the grip he has around your wrist tightens.

The doubt in Haechan’s features clears up at your words, replaced with genuine happiness. It’s a pretty expression on him, one of your favourites, and something that you’ll do anything to keep.

This time, he’s the one to pull you in, hand guiding the upward tilt of your chin. Your lips are chapped and so are his, but you don’t find yourself minding, not when Haechan is so warm and real and solid in front of you. And he’s yours.

When you finally break away from him for air, there’s a hunger in his eyes, but also love. So much of it that it leaves you breathless, weak to his ministrations. He smirks slightly at the dazed expression on your face.

“You know, for two of the best criminal investigators in Korea, we’re quite bad at figuring out each other’s feelings,” he points out.

“Shut up, Donghyuck.”

“As much as that was an interesting case, I hope we never have something like it again.”

“Agreed.” Jaemin lifts up his glass at Doyoung’s statement, downing all the champagne in one go. Renjun looks at him with distaste. “You’re going to get drunk,” he chides.

“I think we all deserve to celebrate,” Jaemin retorts. “To Woo Eunhyuk. May the fucker rot in jail,” the blonde-haired boy proclaims, and even Renjun takes a sip of alcohol at that.

The five of you had left the courtroom four hours ago, fresh from the sight of Woo Eunhyuk being found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment with no parole. Not even his deep pockets could find a lawyer good enough to lighten his sentence. You don’t think you’ll forget the look he flashed you as he was dragged out of the courtroom, one that spelt pure hatred. But you’ve done what you’ve needed to do, and served justice.

“To Y/N and Haechan, my favourite couple, who needed a psychotic serial killer’s help to recognise their feelings.” Chenle’s voice rings out clearly in the room, drawing out a dry chuckle from the man next to you.

Your boyfriend and co-investigator rests his hand gently on your shoulder, before scoffing at the comment. “Careful, Zhong, or you’ll be the next one on my hitlist.”

You click your tongue at him. “Play nice.” Haechan looks at you incredulously, as if asking if you genuinely think he’s the one at fault. You only smile comfortingly at him before turning back to your conversation with Jisung.

You try to bite back a laugh when you hear him scoff lowly. Haechan may be smart and one. of the most mature people you know, but this isn’t one of those moments. “Give me a second, Jisung,” you request, and the younger boy nods, waving you off.

You tiptoe to tap your fingers on Haechan’s shoulder, the leather of his jacket smooth against your fingers. “Donghyuck.”

He doesn’t turn around.

“Are you seriously going to sulk because of this?” you ask.

There’s absolute silence.

“You can’t ignore me forever, you know.” Still nothing.

You sigh in exasperation before an idea comes to you. “Turn around, Hyuck. I have a surprise for you.” To your astonishment, the ploy somehow works.

The last thing Haechan is expecting is for you to grab his jacket collar in your fist and yank him down, before planting your lips firmly on his. It makes his mind blank for a moment, and Haechan reciprocates, before remembering that he’s technically supposed to be angry at you.

When he leans away, however, he’s trying his best to fight the blush that creeps across his cheeks.

“Still angry?” you ask, and he shakes his head. You smile victoriously, but it quickly fades away when he winds an arm around your waist and kisses you again, this time with a dizzying amount of passion.

You’re beginning to get lightheaded when the both of you finally separate, and Haechan has a smug smile on his face. He wipes the smudged lipstick away from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, and you barely register it.

“There. Now I’m happy.”

177 notes · View notes

rosietaeyongswife · 6 months ago

Text

mission: prom | jung jaehyun

genre: fluff, angst, teenage romance paring: jaehyun x reader synopsis: what happenes when prom is in a month, and you haven't been asked out yet? wc: 7k tw: curses

Your father was looking at TV, when he realized you didn't come down for dinner. It's been already 30 minutes, since he have asked you downstairs. A little bit concerned, he went upstairs to check on you and boy, he didn't expect to find you sitting on the bed crying with your earphones in.

"Y/N?" He asked, but you couldn't hear him. He came closer and tap you on your shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry, dad. I got caught up."

"Why you're crying?" Your eyes drifted away from his, to hide embarrassment. "C'mon, you know you can tell me."

For a moment, you held back, because your father might not care, but it's better to let go of negative energy.

"I haven't been asked out to prom, yet." Trying to hold tears in wasn't easy. "It might be silly, but I wish I could go with someone. All my friends are going with their partners, and here I am. Don't worry, I just needed to cry and I'll be fine."

"Y/N, don't be silly. It's still a lot of time, and I assure you, there is a gentleman who is going to ask you out. I promise." He hugged you. "You're pretty, smart and funny girl. Who wouldn't want to go with you? Crazy. Don't stress about it, love." He got up and smiled at you. "Mum made pasta, your favortie one."

There was an ache in your father's heart. Did he feel heartbroken? Yes, probably yes. His little daughter was crying alone in her bedroom, because no boy asked her to prom. He wants only the best for you and wishes you happiness, and there's no way, you're going alone.

He never said anything, but he was thinking about it all night. What to do? And after a while, realization hit him. Your dad is a football couch at Seoul's University, so he's facing a bunch of boys only year older than you, daily. One of them could be good for you. Here come a list in his mind.

Yuta Nakamoto? He's Japanese, and he's just a year older, studying business at University. He's really respectful, smart and funny but he found him annoying. A lot of rumours say, he's a playboy and he doesn't look for anything special yet. Out.

Kim Jungwoo? He's tall, handsome, funny guy of the team. Jungwoo never fails to make anyone smile, and he's engineerer student so it makes him perfect canditate. But. He's shy, and boys were talking about him and some girl. Out.

Kim Mingyu? He's also very tall, handsome and mysterious. A lot of girls have a crush on him, but he's not the smartest among the team, and he has a temper. Sometimes he's too stubborn and it's not cool. Out.

As your dad was thinking about it, his hopes went down. Is there anyone, who isn't douchebag or dumb? He isn't going to set up his precious girl with some jerk. And then an idea popped.

Jung Jaehyun. Tall, handsome, funny and respectful student. He's studying business with Yuta, and a lot of girls have a crush on him and teachers love him. He's most polite person, your dad has ever met. Professors always praise him, because he always gets high marks and he's the best football player in the team. On top of that, his father was an old friend of your father. He helped Jungs in the past, making Jaehyun's dad, a professor in United States some time ago. Bingo.

On your way to classes, all you could hear was your friends bragging about their prom dates. It was annoying you, because you still don't have any date. Jealousy was getting over you, but you hide it as much as you could.

"Doyoung came with a big sign and flowers in his hand." Sohyeon said with a proud smile, showing you picture of her boyfriend. "I was stunned. Imagine, Kim Doyoung showing up with these things to ask me out, crazy."

"Jungwoo wasn't original." Jimin said with a pout. "We were hanging out at his dorm, and he turned the TV off. I looked at him, and he asked if I wanted to go with him."

"I mean, it's Jungwoo, we're talking about." You pointed out. "At least, he did ask."

"What about you, Y/N?" Sohyeon smiled at you widely. "I bet there must be some hottie. Tell us."

"Actually, nope."

Girls tried to comfort you, but you were aware of reality. Majority of people had already dates, and this wouldn't change much.

"I bet someone will ask you out." Jimin hugged you. "Look, I had no idea few months ago, I'd be dating Doyoung. I used to stay at home 24/7. And look, I'm dating him."

"For real, you can't stress about it. I mean, going alone isn't the worst. Many people go alone. It's fine."

"Yes, I bet it is. It'd just be nice to have a date."

"Imagine if someone like, oh." Jimin pouted. "Jung Jaehyun asked you out. Do you remember him? A year ago, everyone and their moms had a crush on him. He's literally the most handsome man I've ever seen. Besides, Jungwoo right."

"Oh fuck." Sohyeon nodded with a laughter. "He once asked me about a teacher, and I could fall because of his beauty."

"I've heard, he asked Chaeyoung out by getting on his knees with her favorite flowers in hand and sang her a song. Isn't it romantic?" Jimin and Sohyeon both were daydreaming about Jaehyun. "He never sings for anyone, so she must've been special."

"Wow, that's awesome." You nodded. "Do you think they're still dating?"

"Maybe? I have no idea, but Park Chaeyoung is studying law, and he's doing business at different universities. I hope they broke up."

"Why? You can't say that."

"C'mon, Y/N. He deserves better."

Park Chaeyoung was known pretty and popular girl among your year, just a year ago. At first, everyone thought she's nice and polite, but then it turned out she's the most fake person, that school has ever seen. If she didn't like someone, she'd turn their life into hell. People got to know, few weeks after prom and since then she left school to write SATS in another school.

The weather outside was sunny and warm, which resulted on bunch of men being sweaty and greasy. They've been running nonstop for past half an hour, and it was just a beginning of practice.

Your father was thinking what is he supposed to say to Jaehyun to make him agree.

"Jaehyun." Younger man turned around to check what's going on. "Can I talk to you?"

"Of course, couch. What's up?"

"Listen, I have an odd question." He nodded. "You know my daughter, Y/N, right? She used to come here with me some time ago."

"Oh, Y/N. Yes, I know her. Not really know, but I know who she is. Why?"

"What I'm about to say may be crazy for you, and I understand if you wouldn't like to agree, but I'm desperate." Jaehyun was confused. What do you have to do with him? "She hasn't been asked out to Prom, and she probably won't be. I love her, and I can't bear the pain to see her heartbroken. Would you ask my daughter out to Prom?"

Jaehyun was stunned and he had no words. What was he supposed to say? He doesn't even know you. At all.

"I like you couch, and I respect you, but I don't really know her. I don't think it's a great idea, maybe you should've asked Yuta-"

"No. You're most normal guy here. Jaehyun, please. Think about it. I'll let you play in the main squad in semi finals. I promise."

"I'll think about it, couch."

Jaehyun wasn't sure what to do. At first, he was certain to say no, but your dad promised him place in the main squad on semi finals. It's his big chance right there.

After the practice, he went straight home and wanted nothing else but sleep. As he was about to shower, his father called him.

"Jaehyun, did Mr. Y/L/N asked you?"

"Oh, God. You too?" He hissed. "It's crazy dad. I literally don't know her at all. Am I supposed to show up at her door tommorow with a flower in a hand and as if she wants to be my prom date? Please. It's ridiculous."

"I know how it sounds, but you need to agree." He sighed and Jaehyun once again, was confused. "Her father used to help me to get a place in professor staff. Thanks to him, I could work at Harvard. He helped me, and it's time to return a favor. I'm not asking you to date her, son. Just one night."

Only two weeks until prom, and here you are with your mother and Jimin in a shop with all the beautiful dresses. The longer you were in there, the more mad you were. All the dresses you tried on, were either ugly or not flattering.

"Baby, I think you need to make your mind. There's plenty of choice. Pick something."

"I'll just get something black." You said with a grin. "Nothing else looks good on me, black is classic. And heels. Whatever."

Jimin felt bad, because you were excited just a ten minutes ago, but now you're tired. After picking a dress, three of you came to your home. Your mother was busy with conversation with your father, while you and Jimin were looking for makeup inspirations on Pinterest.

"I think I'm doing glam." Jimin showed you a picture of glam makeup on some girl. "I need to go extra hard, you know."

"Well, you should. I bet you're going to look amazing, Jimin."

"You too. Find yourself a good inspo, and we'll be slaying the shit out of that place."

After few minutes, Jungwoo came to pick Jimin up. Both of them are supposed to have a dinner date tonight. You waved them goodbye, but you noticed how Jungwoo was looking at you and whispered something to Jimin. She seems to be excited, but she played it off and left. Weird.

As you were packing your stuff for school, a door bell rang in the whole house.

"Y/N, open the door." Your father ordered you to do it.

It annoyed you. Both of your parents were sitting downstairs in the living room, yet they called you to open the door.

"Hi, who-" You stopped mid sentence. "Jung Jaehyun? What are you doing here?"

You got outside and closed the door after you. Jaehyun was wearing a black suit and he was looking really fine in it. In his hands were small boquete of rosses, and you were real confused at the moment.

"I came, because I want to take you to Prom together." He smiled and showed you his dimples. He also gave you the rosses. "Y/N, will you be my prom date?"

He was smiling at you, looking adorable and all you could do was sigh.

"No."

Jaehyun was baffled. He didn't expect such an outcome. You were supposed to be extra excited, say yes and hug him, thanking for saving you, and he was supposed to play in semi finals. And you have audacity to say no?

"What do you mean no?"

"No, I won't let you be my date, Jaehyun." You were smilling, and it didn't help Jaehyun to realize what's going on. "I guess my father must've asked you to do it. Damn, he really pitties me."

"It's not like that, I mean, I mea-" He was at loss of words. "You were supposed to say yes. I thought you still don't have a date."

"That's true, I don't."

Jaehyun was laughing ironically.

"Then what's the issue? Agree and you will have a cute date, and best time of your life with me."

"You don't even know me, Jaehyun. We were friends when we were, like, 5?" You laughed at Jaehyun expression, handing him the flowers. "I appreciate your efforts, but I don't want to go with someone who pity me."

Before Jaehyun could speak, you left. He was baffled on the sport in front of your door. He was theoritically dumped. His pride got hurt a bit, since no one has ever told him "no" until today. Not only pride got hurt, but his hope also died. He can't let go. He needs sport in main squad, it's his chance to become someone big.

"Y/N you're going with me wheter you like it or not."

And with that he left. He promised to himself, he's going to make you change your mind and secure a spot in main team.

It's been five days since Jaehyun has showed up at your door with rosess in his hand. You didn't tell anything about it to your friends, becasue they would get worked out over nothing. Sohyeon and Jimin were busy with their love lives, while you kinda stuck with them to kill boredroom.

"Wait." Jimin stopped on her track. "Isn't it Jung Jaehyun's car?"

"What do you mean?"

Three of you turned your gaze towards black Mercedes, that was parked in front of your school. Plates said exact numbers, Jaehyun owns.

"That's weird." Sohyeon chuckled. "What does he need from here?"

Before anyone could answer, tall male got out the car and was making his way towards you and your friends. Your hearbeat got faster, and you were about to faint.

"Is he coming towards us?"

"I guess."

You had internal battle with yourself, wheter to run away or stay still and die of embarrassment.

"Y/N." The way his voice sounds, made you even more nervous than you already were. "I came by, and I'd like to give you ride home."

Witnesses of this scene were baffled. It was some fanfiction shit in real life, because how the hell, is Jaehyun picking you up from school?

"I don't think it's necessary."

"C'mon. Don't be so lame, let's go."

"I can handle myself." You hissed. "Thank you, but nope."

"I won't ask twice. You're either coming with me or I'm tell-"

"Fine." You didn't give him a chance to speak. "I'll go with you."

You waved your friends goodbye and left with a weird stranger, who doesn't seem to let go.

"Why you're so cold, huh?" He smiled at himself, while he was turning on engine. "I know we don't know each other, but what's stopping us from getting to know each other? Nothing."

"Listen, I don't want to get to know you, alright? You're so annoying, I told you no. What part of my decline you didn't understand?"

Jaehyun was smilling at himself, because of how adorable you were. Annoyed and angry because of him.

"Because I want to be your prom date, how simple is that?" He teased with his eyes focused on the road. "I see no cons of that situation."

Listening to him was getting on your nerves. The next thing you're about to do, was to have a talk with your father. It was all his fault. You being in that car was his fault. Jaehyun getting on your neveres, was, also, his fault.

"We don't know each other, I won't go with a stranger."

"Then we'll get to know each other, simple."

As you were about to protest, you saw how he turned in the wrong way. It wasn't the road towards your home.

"I think you turned in the wrong direction."

"C'mon, did you really think we're going home so soon?"

"I want to go home, Jaehyun." You rolled your eyes. "I appreciate your effort, but it's nonsense."

Jaehyun didn't answer, but kept his smile on his lips. This whole time feels like an illusion. You're in Jaehyun's car, going God knows where. What if he's a psycho, who's about to kill you?

"Easy, I'm not going to kidnap or kill you."

"What the fuck?" Now you were scared. "How did you-"

"I can see it in your facial expressions. Believe me or not, I'm not into killing pretty girls."

"So cliche."

"And funny."

After ten minutes, both of you get out the car. The sight in front of you was quite mesmerizing. It was a lake with woods around. The views was impressing, but you had no intentions to say it out loud.

"How do you like it?"

"It's cool." You shrugged. "It's the place where you take all your girls, right? I guess it's a nice location."

"Don't be so mean. I don't take anyone here." He replied, going towars small bridge. "I am here once every few weeks. I like it here. Peace and sound."

"So.. Why are we here?"

"To spend some time together?" He was sarcastic, which made you even more annoyed than you already were. "You said, you're not going to prom with a stranger, then I'll stop being a stranger."

"Jaehyun, I wasn't joking-"

"What's your favorite color then?"

"Really?" You couldn't believe your ears. "You're asking me about my favorite color, God."

"Just answer me."

"I don't know. Red probably?"

"Red. Sounds good. Mine's black, since you haven't bothered to ask."

"It's because I don't care?" You tried to keep your cool, but Jaehyun made you nervous. "Geez."

"Another question."

"I feel like I'm taking a pop quiz."

"Good, that's the point." He leaned by the bench. "Why you're always wearing your earphones in? Ever since I can remember, you were wearing them since the beginning of the high school."

"I like music, isn't it obvious? I just prefer to listen to music to talking with people."

"So you're an introvert."

"And you're an extrovert, I suppose."

"Opposites attract, you know."

"Stop with this cheesy lines, Jaehyun. God."

"I like how you say my name. Cute." He smiled at you, and you tried to hide your smile. He wasn't that bad. "Do you have any questions?"

"Why business? I thought you're into different things."

"Oh. Well, my father made me do it. My plan A is to become a football star." He chuckled with you at your reaction. "My plan B, made by my father, was to become CEO and open own company."

"Sounds secure. Cool."

"I don't know. Economics and business is so fucked ubp. I baerly can do basic math and it's driving me crazy. College is a real deal, Y/N." You smiled at his words. He must've meant it. "And you? Your plans for future?"

"I'm not sure yet." You sat down on a small bench. "I'm thinking about either psychology or criminology. Both are interesting, but it's dificult. I don't think I'm ready for an adult life."

Jaehyun could only nod at your words. It was true, it is scary, but it can be overcomed.

"You're going to figure it out. I bet you're going to be good at whatever you're going to pick."

"Oh, thank you. How cute." You said with a sarcasm. "I appreciate your piece of advice, but it was shitty one."

"C'mon, don't be so negative Miss."

"Don't call me miss, that sounds weird." You made disgusted face. "I think you should drive me back home, my father is probably wondering where am I."

"Oh shit, for sure."

Ride back home was rather fun. Jaehyun was talking about all the times he had embarrased himself or fun stories he and his friends had. It seems like Jaehyun is really cool guy.

"Thank you, uhm, for the ride."

"You're welcome, see you around Y/N."

A little smile crept on your lips, he isn't that bad. Your father was doing dinner for both of you, when he noticed you.

"Was it Jung Jaehyun's car or am I wrong?"

"Indeed. He insisted, dad."

"Do you like him?"

"I bearly know him, please. He's not that bad, but he's still a stranger."

"Cool." He hummed. "Dinner will be ready in a few."

After small talk with your dad, you came into your room and finally checked all the messages from your friends. As you were about to reply, an outcoming call came.

"Hi."

"Why the fuck did Jung Jaehyun came for you?"

"Exactly, mind explaining?"

"I don't know, he just came by, I guess."

"Came by? Y/N Y/L/N, be for real. Why didn't you tell us both of you are talking?"

"Because we aren't. He's just an old friend."

"Doesn't make sense at all. Girl, we should've known before. Now, tell us everything."

You cooked your brows, because you didn't feel like telling your friends about Jaehyun.

"There's nothing to talk about. We met few times, and that's all. I swear." You tried to keep it cool. "I'm sorry but I have to go, my father calls me."

Sometimes Jimin and Sohyeon get out of hand. They're really annoying with your business, and you don't really like it. Relationship with Jaehyun could only mess up your and your friends.

Past week was really exciting for you. All the time, you had spent with Jaehyun. He literally made you laugh so much, and you had really time of your life. Your friends didn't ask much, they just let you do your thing. For the first time in a long time, you felt happy. Jaehyun brought so much joy into your life, which was cool.

"So." Jaehyun looked up from his cup of tea. "I was wondering, if I can be your prom date?"

You almost choked on your tea. The first time Jaehyun has asked you out, it was weird and funny to you, but right now it made you nervous to speak.

"I guess you can."

Jaehyun chuckled a bit and hugged you. You felt redness spread across your cheeks because of that small gesture. There's no way you're falling for him, right?

"See you on friday then. Make yourself look pretty, Y/N."

"I'm always pretty, dork."

"I never said you weren't."

Humming in response, you laughed at Jaehyun. Both of you were about to head home, he's living just five minutes away from you. When you opened the door to your house, you could hear your mother voice.

"But you can't just ask somebody to do it, Jezus."

"Please, calm down it's not like-" He noticed you. "Y/N, hi. You're finally home."

"What were you arguing about?" You chuckled a bit, but you still were concerned. "Both of you look weird, is everything fine?"

Your father took a quick glance at your mother, and then sit down on the counter.

"Not really, we were arguing about my managment of my football team, nothing serious."

"Okay then."

"Honey, are you ready for prom?" Your mother stopped you from going away. "I mean, it's this friday and I want you to feel special."

"Not really."

The next day, your mother took you out on a shopping spree. This day was all about you. Your mother was really happy that both of you could spend a day together after a long time of not doing so. Walking through shops was making you a bit dizzy. Dresses were elegant and beuatiful, so the choice was hard.

"What about this one, Y/N?"

You turned around to see a green mini dress, and you were certain it's not it.

"I don't think green is my colour, mom."

This went on and on, and what supposed to be a nice afternoon turned into a nightmare real quick. Your mother was annoyed with your choices, and the fact you haven't found any of the dresses cute.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I think I can help." A woman with a precious smile on came by. "My name is Jennie, and I've been working here for three years, so I have some experience."

"Thank God, I can't do it anymore." Your mother rolled her eyes. "Y/N be quick."

She then left to sit on the couch and check her phone, while you were on your way with Jennie. She seems to be a nice girl and she was really cool with you.

"I'm sorry for my mother, she's like this sometimes."

"Don't worry, things like this happens here daily, believe me. I know how to deal with it."

"Must be harsh."

"I got used to it by now." She smiled at you. "Here, elegant dress. Black and maxi, what do you think?"

"They're amazing. Wow, I've never seen anything prettier."

"I know right? Well, here's all the dresses available in black. I think black is everyone's go to. So let's take a look."

After ten minutes of going through, what seems like a hundred, dresses, Jennie picked one.

"That-"

"Is beautiful, I know." She ended your sentance. "Try it on."

It was black, elegant and slevless dress with a square neck. The dress made you pop and look like a princess. Looking at your reflection, you felt beautiful for the first time since forever. You felt like you, but more confident and cooler.

"Excuse me, Mam." Jennie approached your mother. "Your daughter was wondering if you might want to take a look at the dress we choose."

"Finally, okay."

Facial expression your mother had, was spechless. It was a moment where both of you went silent and just looked at each other.

"So, what do you think?"

"You look perfect, Y/N. This is the one, honey." She turned her back and looked at Jennie. "Can we get shoes too?"

D-day, here's your prom night. Jaehyun felt comfortable around you, so were you. Both of you have been texting each other about most casual stuff, as if you had known each other for years. Also, he was annoying you, because he wanted to see the dress, but you told him no. It's supposed to be a surprise.

A bell rang. It must've been him.

"Y/N, someoen's for you." Your dad called you, and suddenly you felt anxious. What if he doesn't like what you wear? "Y/N, c'mon."

Making your way down the stairs, you prayed in your mind for him to like it a lot. On the other hand, Jaehyun was mesmerized by your beauty. He couldn't take his eyes off of you.

"Y/N, you look gorgeous." Jaehyun couldn't take his eyess off of you, which made you blush. "You're killing it."

"Thank you." You tried to hide your face. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"Sorry, my bad."

Ride towars the place of the prom wasn't silent at all. Jaehyun was talking with you about everything like usually. He also couldn't stop looking at you. For the first time in a long time, you felt appreciated by someone else than your parents.

Dance. Everyone who had a pair had to dance. Jaehyun learnt the steps in a day thanks to you. You couldn't tell who was more excited: you or Jaehyun. Whole school had eyes on you and your partner for tonight, but you couldn't care less. Tonight feels like a dream. It was all thanks to God. If it wasn't for him, you would spend the worst night of your life alone, but here you are with Jung Jaehyun.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, I am."

"Video Games" instrumentall started playing. Your steps were graceful, smooth and pretty. Jaehyun was watching your every move almost hipnotised. At this very moment, he realized how much he does actually like you. Jaehyun got attached to you by last weeks. To be fair, he was mad at himself that he hadn't had a chance to get to know you before.

"I'm one lucky man to be here with you."

"Didn't you tell the same thing to Chaeyoung?" You laughed, while Jaehyun silenced for a minute and let out a small giggle. "I'm lucky one. I don't know how did it happen, but I'm happy nevertheless."

Jaehyun eyes widened. For a qucik second, he remembered conversation with your father. He felt awful for a second, but then he let go. It doesn't matter. What matters is the fact he likes you.

"No, I told her something different. I guees." Both of you giggled, as you were making your way towards the tables. "I'm glad that Doyoung and Jungwoo will be here. I feel like I'm grandma among teenagers."

"You're just a year older, idiot."

"Still. Year may be a lot."

"Dumb."

Sohyeon and Jimin were really excited for you. They had never seen you happier than tonight. Ever since you've been hanging out with Jaehyun something changed in you. Like a small sparkle in you woke up. None of them knew the real reason why did Jaehyun asked you out. Their boyfriends told them, he was intrested in her for a while since Chaeyoung left the school. It was really believable, because you were one of the prettiest girl in the High School.

"So, Jaehyun and Y/N, are you dating?"

Jungwoo asked all of sudden, and for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

"Dude, I swear to God." Jaehyun rolled his eyes at his best friend. "Leave us alone. Are you alright, Y/N?"

"Yes, I am."

"So? What's the answer?"

Before Jaehyun could answer, you were faster to reply.

"No. We're friends."

Jaehyun couldn't explain why, but he felt an ache in his heart at your words. It was an honest true, why would he feel hurt? He brushed it off, and just nodded at your words.

Jimin punched Jungwoo playfully, and changed the topic.

"What about we dance? I hear Rihanna, and everyone is sitting down. C'mon! Let's dance!"

Circle of your friends got up on the dance floor staying there for almost hour. All the 2000s hits were blasting through the speakers, and you really were happy. Nothing could ruin your night. It's the best day of your life.

"I need to rest." You said, and sat down with Doyoung while the rest went for the drinks.

"Wow, I haven't seen Jaehyun so happy and chill for a while now. Did you do something to him, Y/N?" He chuckled.

"Nope, haha. What are you talking about?" You laughed at him, and took a sip of juice you had. "I thought he was always this happy."

"He had a rough time lately, and now he's dancing on the dance floor with us. Believe me, he would never do it unless he was drunk."

Doyoung's words warmed up your heart. The thought of Jaehyun being happier just because both of you hangs out made you smile. He isn't such an asshole as you thought for some time.

An hour passed, and everyone had a great time. Girls were dancing with you, boys would come to dance too. It's an unforgetable night for you.

"I need to smoke. Anyone?"

Jaehyun, Doyoung, Jungwoo, Jimin all got up and left. Jimin had to call her mother, while you stayed with Sohyeon. Your friend was really drunk, close to passing out.

"Are you alright, Sohyeonah?"

"Yes, yes hell I am." She was chuckling. "I feel great." She was stuttering, and you felt bad for her. "I want more."

As when she was going for another drink, you took it from her.

"Girl, do you want to throw up? Leave it alone." You were laughing at her failed attempts to get the drink from you. "Stop it."

It's been five minutes, and you wasn't laughing at all. Sohyeon wasn't chuckling or saying anything, she was almost passed out.

"I need to go to toilet."

Her voice was shaky, so you were fast to react and go with her. She was on her knees throwing up, as you were holding her hair.

"Who-" Jimin voice stopped. "Oh my God, is she so drunk?" She got on her knees, and took a look at her friend.

"Yes, she looks like a ghost. I don't think staying here more, would make it better."

"God." Jimin rolled her eyes. "Can you go for Doyoung? He should take her home or something. I'll stay with her. I know what to do, but she should rest."

"Of course."

You felt bad for Sohyeon, she has always been a lighthead. Jimin knew what to do with her, but you had no clue. You went by your table, but there was no one there so boys were still outside. Many people were going in and out, so it was hard for you to notice them in the crowd. Finally, you saw familiar sillhouete. As you got closer you've heard Jungwoo's voice.

"Are you still going to keep in touch with her? I mean, you already did what you've been asked to." Jungwoo was chuckling. "She's great girl, but do you want to?"

Been asked to? You felt as if your heart was breaking in two. What does it mean?

"I don't know. Depends."

"Ya, really?" Doyoung was laughing. "You got your spot in a team, and you says depends. Coach isn't going to be the happiest with such an answer."

"I mean, that's true. I like her but.." Jaehyun wasn't able to end. "I don't know how to explain this. I would -"

He couldn't end, because Jungwoo shook his head in your direction. Here you were standing with makeup running down your face. Crying so hard, you almost forgot how to breathe.

"D-Doyoung, Sohyeon is throwing up in the toilets. Take her home." IT was all you could say.

Three of them were shocked to see you. You've heard the conversation out of context. It seems like Jaeyun used you for his spot, but he didn't get to finish his true feelings about you.

"Fuck! Y/N stop!"

Jungwoo went together with Doyoung, leaving two of you alone.

"Leave me the fuck alone, Jaehyun!" You screamed on top of your lungs. "I knew my father must have asked you for it. I knew it. How could I be so stupid to think you did it by yourself! I'm such an idiot."

"It's not like that! I really like you, please. Hear me out!"

"No, I don't want to talk." You wiped away your tears. "I'm coming home. I don't want to see you anymore."

"Wait, Y/N."

Jaehyun was about to chase you, when he realized it's done. You overheard him and his friends in a wrong timing. He was about to say how much he does adore you, and how it depends on you and how you see him. Now it's fuckin done, because you know it was your dad favor.

Prom was supposed to be your dream come true, and it turned into a nightmare quickly. It's been almost a month, and you're still with your thoughts in that night. Your father apologized to you about thousand times.

"I told you to leave her alone! She could've gone by herself. Happens. It would be better than going with your boy. Gosh, what have you done?" Your mother was annoyed. "Now she doesn't talk to you and I support her."

"I only wants the best for her! That's it! I couldn't look at her being hurt. I wanted my little girl to have her moment, is it so bad?"

Jaehyun called you and texted you, but you didn't read nor respond to these messages.

On the other hand, Jaehyun was upset. Heartbroken. Depressed. He wasn't sure why did he take it so personal. He was sure he couldn't get you out of his head. Jung Jaehyun understood you and wasn't surprised by your behaviour, but he was selfish. He wanted you to text him back, to say you missed him. His friends were surprised by his acts, because he never was such a wreck because of a girl.

"Y/N." Your dad got into your room. "I may sound selfish, but I want you to talk with Jaehyun. Semi finals are this weekend, yet he's really not himself. We need to win and I know to you I'm an asshole but please."

"Do you really expect me to talk with him?"

"At least show up on our match. He would be better if he could see you. Please. It's important for boys and for me."

"I'll think about it."

Your dad nodded and left. Of course, it was obvious that semi finals are important for your father as a couch. But you were still hurt. It wasn't even because of your father and Jaehyun, but by you. How could you believe Jaehyun would liked you? It was eating you alive. Everyone knew you went to prom together, yet he wasn't feeling you. That's what you supposed.

The door bell rung. You were alone, so you had to open the door and you saw two men. Jungwoo and Doyoung.

"I don't want to talk to you." As when you almost closed the door, Jungwoo stopped you.

"Y/N, why can't you talk with him?" Doyoung asked desperatly. "He's a wreck. I've never seen him like this before. I swear to God, it was out of context. It was bad timing."

"Look, it must be hard, but the coach wanted the best for you, and Jaehyun? He caught feelings! Can't you see?" Jungwoo hissed. "All he could talk about is you and how much he regrets not going after you."

"We understand if you don't want to know him anymore. Okay. But please, Y/N, come on the weekend for semi finals. He has to give his best, but he's not able to do so."

Doyoung really was desperate for you. The look in their eyes could tell it was truth.

"I can come, but." Their eyes lighten up. "I don't want to talk to him. I'm doing that, so you can leave me alone."

Two guys hugged you and left. They were thankful for you.

Semi finals were about to start. Seouls University, coached by your father vs. Yonsei University. It's a big event among students. There were about thousand people at least. Whole area was occupied. Jimin and Sohyeon reserveted places for you three.

"Hello, finally."

"Here I am. Where's the guys?"

"They're going up."

You looked over at the field and there they were. Your eyes couldn't help but lend on Jaehyun. He wasn't able to see you. Deep down, you prayed for his best performance.

After first half it was 2:0 for Yonsei. Boys were throwing curses and were mad. Jaehyun couldn't score a goal at all. He was furious, and got yellow card for bad behaviour.

It was a break in between.

"You should go there, Y/N." Jimin said. "Jaehyun isn't going to score these goals, because he is still focused on you and he had no idea you came for him."

"I came because they all asked me-"

"Don't lie. We know deep down, you couldn't not come."

"Go, you have less than five minutes."

In your mind there was no other choice. You were running for your life to get down there for them. Jaehyun had to see you. You had to tell him to get it together. Tell him you forgive him, even though you don't want to.

"Guys, please! Focus! Jaehyun you are so close to score a goal, yet you miss every single time!"

"I'm sorry coach, I really try to."

At this moment you walked in. Boys turned their heads at you and decided to leave you alone with Jaehyun for a minute.

"Minute and I see you back."

"You really came." Jaehyun came and hugged you. "I'm sorry for everything, I miss you so fuckin much!"

"Jaehyun, get it together. You are supposed to be MVP. Please, it's important."

"I try to do my best but I can't focus."

"I forgive you. I forgave you long ago. I'm not mad about it anymore, so please. We're fine. Do your best."

"Thank you." Jaehyun wanted to kiss you. He needed that but your time was out. He had to go play.

The other half was different. Seoul University had ball longer than Yonsei. There was 15 minutes left and the score was 2:1. Yuta managed to score a goal few minutes ago. The longer you were watching, the more stressed you were.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Jung Jaehyun and Kim Jungwoo are running towards Yonsei. Wait, Jungwoo passed the ball to Jaehyun. He's close to scoring. Wait! Jung Jaehyun scored another goal! It's 2:2. One of the team needs to score another goal to win and to go to half finals."

Jaehyun did it. Just one more goal. Boys were faster, while Yonsei boys were already tired. They thought that your father's team would let go.

"I'm stressed. I hope they win."

Last 5 minutes. Jaehyun needs to score another goal. You were watching him closely. Mingyu was trying to pass ball to him, but he was blocked by the opponents. Yuta was trying his best to block other team, but it was hard.

Finally, Jaehyun was running as if he wasn't human. His speed was so fast, people didn't get what was going on. All of a sudden, Mingyu managed to pass to Jungwoo and he passed to Jaehyun.

Goal. Jaehyun did it. Time is over and Seoul University won 3:2. They're going towards finals!

"OMG THEY DID IT!"

Everyone was screaming and jumping. Boys were hugging each other and were about to give speeches through the microphones.

"I'm proud of my boys." Your dad appeared on the big screen. "I taught them well and now they won again. I love them as if they're mine kids. Congratulations boys, we got it!"

"Yuta Nakamoto, how do you feel after this win? You scored first goal for your team, you must be proud!"

"Fuck yeah! We did it! Again!" He was screaming. "We're not stopping anytime soon! We're not afraid of anyone, I'm sure we're going to win South Korea Football Competition. I know it!"

Few boys gave intervies until it was turn for Jaehyun. Your hearbeat was as fast as Jaehyun during the match.

"Jaehyun you won MVP today! You scored two goals giving your team to chance to move forward. What's your thoughts?"

"It's not thanks to me but thanks to the whole team. Our teamwork is amazing and we did it. We really are the best! I love my boys! I'm grateful I can do it with them and celebrate!" He took a microphone from a journalist hands. "Excuse me, but I have to say something to someone I hurt really badly. Y/N." Your heart stopped for a second. "I meant to say it long time ago. I think I'm in love with you. I know I was an asshole and now you're propably embarrassed as fuck, but please. I love you. I miss you everyday. I miss those little dates. When Jungwoo had asked us if we were dating, I'd like to answer yes. I wished to. I wasn't sure of your feelings. I know I fucked up big time, but please. Can you forgive me for real and talk to me?"

"Yes, Y/N, wherever you are, please come down to us and get your man!" Journalist shouts to the mic.

Your friends pushed you to make you move. You ran towards Jaehyun. It was crazy. Jaehyun loved you. He really did. You ran towards his arms and hugged him.

"I forgave you. I think I love you too."

"Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?"

Instead of answering you kissed him. Everyone was cheering for you, but both of you were too busy with each other.

"Yes. Of course, yes!"

346 notes · View notes

jhdyuiee · 7 months ago

Text

A wish or two

☁︎ pairing: doyoung x fem!reader x jaehyun

☁︎ synopsis: finally! after going back and forth with Qulture Corps. you've finally landed a spot. everything seemed as though it'll be fine and dandy, however it seems like team managers, Kim Doyoung & Jeong Jaehyun, have other things in mind...

☁︎ tags/warnings: threesome!, smut!, everything is consensual!!, rough sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, oral (males & female receiving), masturbation, spanking, fingering, hair pulling, dirty talk, name calling (whore, good girl, baby), throat fucking, dumbification, impact play (pussy slapping), spitting, multiple orgasms, squirting, kissing/making out, breast play, cursing, praise kink, multiple positions, drinking, office romance

☁︎ w.c: 6.7k

☁︎ a.n: hello! jiji here, this one came up as a request by one of you & thank you so much for that!! i really appreciate any request and will try my best to make them possible. i hope you all enjoy this one, it’s actually my first writing something like this so i am a bit nervous on how you all will enjoy it. anyways stay safe and i’ll hopefully be back soon…🤍

Prologue.

Everything sort of just happened.

There was no stopping either of us.

Our hunger, lust, and desire for one another was an addictive drug. One with no cure.

But I didn’t care… heck I wanted more, Doyoung wanted more, Jaehyun wanted more.

March 20.

Finally… Finally! I can’t believe I finally got accepted! After two months of going back and forth with the company, they’ve finally hired me. Oh thank goodness, I don’t know what I would’ve done if they hadn’t hired me.

Qulture Corps. A renowned company, mainly widely known for producing some of the latest fashion and make-up trends. Since I graduated I’ve been dying to get a spot on their team. Truly, this is a dream come true!

The call I received earlier from them was nerve-racking, I thought they’d call me to inform me I didn't make the team, but luckily I did and was set to start in 3 days.

3 days. Oh god, I’m so fucking excited. ‘What am I going to wear?’ A sheer sense of panic overcame me, first impressions are always a must, especially if I’m going to be working for a company where literally fashion is at the top of its game.

“I have no time to waste,” I muttered, as I got up from my living room couch and headed off to my bedroom. I picked up my purse, slipped on my shoes, and headed off to a mall not so far away from my apartment complex.

I stormed off to every store trying to find the perfect outfit, however I just ended up picking up whatever caught my eye at every store I went to. This is a disaster.

Sighing, I headed off to the next shop, a boutique called Soltre. The store has a beautiful yet elegant aesthetic to it, it was sort of my vibe. I made my way to where a particularly beautiful and gorgeous top was racked. I inspected it, so lost in my thoughts I was unable to hear the footsteps that approached me from behind.

“That’s a beautiful top,” said a voice, causing me to turn around, startled. I was faced with a tall man with dark brown hair and dark chocolate-colored eyes. I was awe-struck, such a beautiful man was standing in front of me. “You should definitely buy it,” he continued when I didn’t respond.

I looked away, my focus back on the shirt. “I guess I’ll take you up on that then,” I finally spoke, glancing up at him again. He gave me a smile, dimples appearing. Wow. “This shop is one of the best in the mall after all,” he said.

‘He seems to know a lot about fashion,” I thought. “You sure know a lot… about uhm, fashion I mean.”

“You can say it’s my line or work per say,” he answered.

“Ah, I see. Well then, I uhm have to get going,” I said, fumbling with the top. I walked past him, but soon turned around, “Thank you.” I offered him a smile as well. He returned a smile as well, “My pleasure,” his voice said smoothly.

Once I paid, I left the store and decided that I had enough shopping for today, plus my arms couldn’t bear to handle another bag so I went back home. My thoughts though kept wondering on the mystery man I met at the store today. I didn’t ask for his name, well not that it should matter since I’ll probably never meet him again.

The rest of the day continued as normal and so did the next 3 days. Until finally, the long awaited day. My first day at the job!

☁︎*^+**

I glanced at myself one last time before heading out. I decided on the top recommended by mr. stranger man, a nice gray pleated skirt, and some cute black mary janes. With everything looking fine in my eyes, I headed to my car. The drive was gonna be at least half an hour, but I’ll manage. The closer I found myself to the building the more my stomach twisted and turned. I was getting even more nervous by the second. I can’t blow this up, I kept repeating.

When I arrived, the building was huge, at most 15 floors. Once I parked, I took quick deep breaths, to calm the nerves. “Let’s do this,” I said, and headed off into whatever awaited me.

The check-in process went smoothly, I met up with my new boss, Lee Taeyong and luckily he seems like a genuinely kind and easy going boss. My nerves from earlier are now fleeting.

I rode in the elevator with Taeyong to the 7th floor, where he was to introduce me to my new team. Once we arrived, I took a look at my surroundings. There were rarely people there, this floor seemed rather peaceful. “Ah, I see you’ve noticed. This is the planning department, and where you’ll be from now on. The planning department is rather small than most companies, but that’s because we choose the best of the best. We want committed people here, creative people who aren’t afraid to voice their thoughts and feelings,” Taeyong explained.

‘Wow… I made it to such a prestigious department… I thought I was just going to spend my days typing away at a screen or answering calls. This is absolutely 10 times better.’

“Wow, I’m honored Mr. Lee,” I spoke, bowing at the man. “Oh, god no you don’t need to do all that, reading your resume I figured you’d be a perfect fit for the team. Plus the team managers thought so as well,” he said.

“Team managers?” I asked, confused. “Ah, yes in this department we have two team managers. Follow me this way and I'll introduce you all,” Taeyong responded, as he guided me to the far end of a hallway located on our left side. Taeyong briefly knocked on the door before proceeding to open it. He ushered me inside, closing the door behind me.

“Hey! You two come over here for a sec,” Taeyong said, capturing the attention of the two males sitting on their desks who then got up, walking towards us. I looked at both of them, ‘Wait a minute he looks-‘ my thought was interrupted by Taeyong.

“You two, this is Y/L/N our new worker. Y/N this is Kim Doyoung and Jeong Jaehyun,” Taeyong explained. One of the two males reached his hand out, “Doyoung,” he mentioned. I took his hand and turned to the man standing beside him.

“Nice seeing you again,” he said with a chuckle. It was Mr. Stranger man in the flesh. Who knew he’d be my new manager, well that explains a whole lot about our interaction…

“You two know each other?” Taeyong asked.

“Ah well-“ I was interrupted by Jaehyun, “We met at the mall a couple days ago when I set out to look for… inspiration.”

Taeyong looked at us, his expression unreadable. “Very well, I trust you two know what to do with her,” he said as the two males nodded.

“Let me know if you have any other questions or concerns Y/N. I look forward to seeing what you bring to the team,” Taeyong added, as he left us behind with one another.

“So, shall we show you to your office?” Doyoung spoke up. I nodded, as they led me to my desk. It was quite close to their office, ‘That’s a relief.’

“Let us know if you need anything… Doyoung and I gotta get back, we have a meeting soon,” Jaehyun explained as he leaned against the door frame.

“Thank you, you two I appreciate it,” I thanked them. They smiled, shutting my door and walking away.

I leaned against my chair, recapping my past hour. It’s only a relief that everything went smoothly, Doyoung seemed great, and Jaehyun did too. I shut my eyes, not believing this was my life now. Honestly, I could get used to this.

However… what I didn’t know was what would come of my life a month from now. The irreversible. The desire. The lust.

1 month later.

It’s been over a month now since I started working for Qulture Corps, and so far it’s been nothing but amazing. The work has gone smoothly, and today we just wrapped up the final meeting for our upcoming Fall Collection. Although, it’s still months aways, production of the products does take some time to produce.

Knock. Knock.

“Come in,” I answered.

Doyoung appeared before me, “Hey, Y/N I just came in to inform you we're having a team dinner tonight. Would you like to come?”

I pondered for a bit, making sure I had no plans afterwards. “Yeah! That sounds fun, I’ll go,” I said.

“Great, see you at 7 p.m then. I’ll send you the location too,” Doyoung explained before exiting shortly after.

My phone then buzzed with the restaurant's location. In the time that I’ve spent here I’ve been able to get closer to both Doyoung and Jaehyun… However, it feels like something else is there between us. Something unexplainable, indescribable.

I snapped out of my thoughts, continuing my remaining work and answering emails before I decided to head off to meet them at the restaurant.

Luckily the drive there wasn’t long so I found myself a bit early. I entered and gave the waiter Doyoung’s name as Doyung had instructed me to do so. Our table was located in the far back. Later, everyone started pouring in Eunsoo, Leah, Jaemin, Mark, Chenle, Haechan, Yena, and Isabel. Surprisingly, Doyoung, Jaehyun, and Taeyong were the last to arrive, you would think that host would be the one’s here first. Kinda funny isn’t it?

“Nice to see you all here,” Taeyong announced.

“Wouldn’t miss out on free drinks!” Haechan cheered.

I chuckled, Haechan was definitely the life of the party within our team. With drinks and food on the table now, everyone dug in. They truly weren’t lying when they said food tastes better when you eat with others.

“Hey~ Y/N~ you’re so beautiful, a-anyone ever told you that~” Leah slurred, she was a rather light drinker. I laughed in her embrace, luckily still a bit sober so as to not do anything stupid. I glanced up, catching Jaehyun as his eyes lingered on mine. My mouth slowly opened so to speak, utter a word, but swallowed the words back down.

I pulled away from Leah’s embrace. “I’m gonna go to the restroom,” I say, excusing myself. Although, I wasn’t going to the restroom… I headed outside, stopping by an alleyway. I wanted some fresh air, the short eye contact with Jaehyun earlier got me irritable hot.

As I took in a breath, a voice spoke up, “Restroom huh.” I whipped my head towards the direction of the voice, only for my eyes to meet with Jaehyun. ‘What was he doing here?’

I stumbled on my words, “I… I, uhm-” Jaehyun walked closer, I inhaled his sandalwood smell that radiated off him. I was losing my composure, ‘Was this the alcohol?’

“Just wanted some fresh air,” I stuttered. “Yeah?” he questioned. I nodded, silence befalling us. I just couldn’t speak. “Look at me,” he whispered. A beat, then two passed before I looked up. Jaehyun was so close, I could feel his breath, see the fire in his eyes. He brought his hand to caress my cheek, then ghosted a finger over my bottom lip.

“Jaehyun…” I whispered. “I’m sorry baby, but can I… Can I kiss you,” he whispered back. I nodded shyly, closing my eyes.

I felt as Jaehyun’s lips collided with mine, his soft lips molded so beautifully against mine. It was gentle, so beautiful that I wished time would stop, but then Jaehyun backed away. My lips feeling empty again.

“Don’t stop,” I said as I wrapped my arms around his neck. I put my lips back on his, only this time teeth clattering, tongues colliding with one another. It was rougher, that the first that I ended up pushed against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist.

We were so lost in each other we failed to notice the person standing on the front of the alleyway. Cough. I flinched, the cough caused us both pull away and direct our attention to the male standing on the other end.

Doyoung…

“Fuck,” I muttered. I got off Jaehyun, patting myself. We walked to Doyoung who has not said a word since catching both of us.

“I was getting worried when neither of you came back so I looked for you two,” Doyoung later explained.

“Sorry about that,” I apologized. “Oh! No, not at all there is nothing to apologize… In fact, I’m sorry to have walked in on that.”

Gosh thank god it was dark because I was probably burnt red. I was so goddamn embarrassed.

“I should get going now, it’s quite late…” I proceeded to say as a means to get out of this awkward situation.

“Oh, yes of course you’re right. You should get back safely Y/N,” Doyoung said.

“See you tomorrow… Y/N,” Jaehyun said, finally speaking up since Doyoung walked in on us.

After bidding them both farewell, I rushed to my car. I wanted nothing more but to lock myself up in my apartment. A quick drive later, I threw myself on my bed. I recounted my kiss–or rather heated make-out–with Jaehyun, but then the memory of Doyoung catching us haunting right after.

Buzz.

I turned my head to my phone which was lying beside me. Speak of the devil. It was from Doyoung…

I unlocked my phone, opening his message. However, I now wish I hadn’t.

Doyoung: you know Y/N seeing the way you two kissed earlier got me so fucking hard

Doyoung: [ 1 image attachment ]

Doyoung just… he just… Oh my fucking… Was he really sending me a picture of his cock!? “He’s big…” I mumbled as I took another look at the image he sent.

Shit. I felt as the wetness began pulling in between my legs. I rubbed my legs together, but then slipped a hand inside, and fingers inside as I imagined Doyoung roughly pounded in and out of me. The squelching sounds echoed in my room, along with my little whimpers and moans.

First the kiss with Jaehyun and now this, masturbating to Doyoung?!

Once I reached my high, I waited until I caught my breath so to continue the rest of my night time routine. With one last sigh, I laid myself on my bed again, trying to shoo away any indecent thoughts of Jaehyun or Doyoung.

However, that proved rather harder as I ended up dreaming about not one, but both of them!

☁︎*^+**

It’s been 4 days since the whole ordeal with Jaehyun and Doyoung, and everything surprisingly has been rather good. It’s like what happened between us never– happened! We were like regular co-workers again. Though, I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not…

“Y/N?” Eunsoo spoke. I flinched, regaining my focus. “Huh, oh yeah what’s up?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing I was just asking if you’re okay… you’ve been kind of out of it lately,” she said worriedly.

“Yeah, everything's peachy so to speak,” I replied. Nothing was in fact peachy though. Pretending like nothing happened 4 days ago has actually been haunting me. The kiss, picture, dreams have been driving me insane. ‘Was I always so horny?’

Buzz.

My phone vibrated, causing both of us to turn to it. I picked it up, ‘Jaehyun?’

Jaehyun: can you come to my office?

A second later he added,

Jaehyun: like right now

“Looks like I’m being summoned,” I said. Eunsoo bid me a “good luck,” and I scurried off to his office. A million questions pondered my head, but neither of them were about what was to come in the next few minutes.

I knocked, and the followed a “Come in.” As I entered there he was, but he wasn’t alone. Doyoung was here too. ‘Great just my luck.’

“Is something the matter?” I asked. Jaehyun glanced at Doyoung, he hesitated before he spoke. “We have something we want to say to you Y/N.” I gave them a nod as to signal them to continue whatever they wanted to tell me. They gave each other one more glance.

“We’re truly sorry for our behavior that night at the restaurant,” they both said, bowing at me. I can see their sincerity, but part of my heart ached. 'Did they truly think of that night as a mistake? The kiss? The picture?’

They got back up, but neither one of us spoke up. Silence befell us. ‘I didn’t like this. No, I don't want to pretend nothing happened. I-’ “No, god no please,” I spoke up. They looked at me with confused eyes. “D-Don’t pretend nothing happened. At least I can’t. I- I…” my words got caught in my throat. ‘What am I saying?’

Doyoung then spoke up, “You what Y/N… tell us. What do you want?” ‘He’s right, what do I want? Ah, wait a minute… what I want is…’

“I want you… I want you both.”

Silence.

Oh god what did I just say. “Oh wait uhm-” I couldn’t even speak as Doyoung's lips collided with mine. His kiss was different from the one I shared with Jaehyun, even more gentle and passionate. ‘Wait a minute Jaehyun!’ I broke our kiss, my eyes meeting Jaehyun’s. He just stood there like how Doyung did that day.

Jaehyun then smirked, coming closer. “Is that really true? You want us both,” he says.

I felt as my face heated up, I glanced from Jaehyun to Doyoung. “Yes,” I muttered. “Please, I want you both.”

No words fell from their mouths, but their movements continued. Jaehyun walked until he was behind me, and Doyoung raised his hand to my chin. “You sure you can handle both of us, right here right now?” Doyoung asked.

“Yes, please I couldn’t stop thinking about that night,” I admitted. I then felt Jaehyun's mouth ghosting near my ear. “Then make sure to not be too loud or else they’ll have to witness how much of a whore you are,” Jaehyun whispered, then kissing my ear down to my neck. Every kiss lit me up even more. I wanted more.

Doyoung then crashed his lips onto mine again with the same intensity, while Jaehyun’s arms wandered all over my body. His hands groped my breast, causing me to moan into the kiss I was sharing with Doyoung. They later wandered even further, until they cupped my cunt causing me to grind on his hand. “Impatient aren’t you?” he whispered into my ear.

Doyoung backed away, our saliva connecting. “We have time, don’t worry,” Doyoung said, as he teased the buttons of my shirt. He slowly unbuttoned each button, dropping the shirt on the floor. My bra later joined in as well, leaving my perky breasts for his eyes. I watched as Doyoung stuck out his tongue, licking on my bud. All the while, Jaehyun began working on my lower half. He successfully got rid of my pants, leaving me in only my panties.

I whipped my head towards him when I felt Jaehyun's fingers playing with my slit. “Oh god,” I whimpered when he prodded his finger in my hole. “So wet already,” he muttered against my neck. I could only let out a small whimper and he continued the movement. “S-Stop teasing me… Please,” I pleaded.

“You sure are an impatient one. Fine then take it,” Jaehyun said as he inserted two of his fingers inside my cunt. I practically sucked his fingers in, the wetness echoed around the room. “Fuck, so tight and wet,” he whispered in my ear. His pace was unbearable, he would slow down and then go fast. I was losing my mind, his fingers hit me so fucking well– it was like he studied my body beforehand to know what my likes and dislikes were. I felt my stomach clenched, my cunt tightening around his fingers.

It certaining helped too that all the while Doyoung was working his way with my tits. His mouth would lick one and then return the same affection to the other one. He sucked on them like a child, biting down on my bud a couple of times as well. His stimulation on my tits and Jaehyun’s on my cunt were enough to have me pushing me to the edge.

“Cum. I know you want to,” Doyoung said when he let go of my breast with a pop. With a final pinch to my clit by Jaehyun, I came. I came so hard, I would’ve fallen if not for Jaehyun catching me. I watched hazily as Jaehyun licked his fingers clean of my essence, and felt as Doyoung carried me. He then placed me on the couch they had in the middle of their office.

“On your hands and knees,” Doyoung commanded. My body acted on it’s on, getting into the position. I watched as Jaehyun came in front of me, and later whipped my head around to see Doyoung behind me. “Think you can suck me off while he eats you out?” Jaehyun asked. I nodded, so turned on by what he just said that I drooled from my mouth and in between my legs. He chuckled, unzipping his pants and freeing his cock from his underwear. His cock was big. It made me doubt if I would be able to take it all.

“Don’t worry, you can take it baby or else a whore like you wouldn’t have made such a request,” he said when he noticed a hint of doubt on my face. “Now open up.”

I did as Jaehyun said, opening my mouth up for him. I flickered my eyes up to watch him as he brought his cock closer to my mouth. Once it was close enough, I started by swirling my tongue around his tip, and then wrapping my lips around his tip. I watched as his brows furrowed, so I continued my movements. I then began gliding my tongue along his shaft, up and down, down and up. He seemed to be enjoying it judging by the way he’d started groaning.

As I began taking him even more, I felt Doyoung's tongue begin to kitten lick my cunt. Doyoung had begun with some slow licks, but would stay a bit longer on my clit which caused me to moan against Jaehyun’s cock. His cock was so big that I barely even made it halfway yet. I felt as the tears began pooling in my eyes and drool passed my lips. “That’s a good girl, take more I know you can,” Jaehyun said. And so I did until his cock reached the back of my throat. “Fuck,” Jaehyun groaned, grabbing a fistful of my hair. He started taking over, bobbing my head along his shaft.

Meanwhile, Doyoung had begun licking me even faster, occasionally sucking on my clit which just caused me to moan on Jaehyun’s cock even more. I can tell the sensation satisfied Jaehyun as he muttered incoherent words into the air.

I felt like another high was coming, so fast and quick it was almost embarrassing. As I was lost in the pleasure I suddenly felt a wet muscle poke my hole, oh god. Doyoung was fucking me with his tongue. It felt so good, enough to have my cumming for a second time while Jaehyun was stuffed in my throat. “Cumming before me? I think you deserve a punishment,” Jaehyun said.

‘Punishment? What is he-’ I couldn’t even finish my thoughts before Jaehyun started gripping my hair even tighter and increasing his speed. It was getting messy– drool and tears everywhere. As if matters couldn’t get any more worse, Doyoung landed a slap on my ass. It only caused my eyes to widen and moan on Jaehyun’s cock.

“Fuck, that feels good. Doyoung do that again since it seems like our little whore enjoys it.” I looked up at Jaehyun, with those tearful eyes of mine, in which he also looked down at me. A smirk plastered on his face. Obliging to Jaehyun’s words, Doyung began slapping my ass even more.

“Shit, I’m close,” Jaehyun moaned. A thrust or two down my throat, Jaehyun came into my mouth, my throat. I watched as his chest heaved, and he pushed his hair out of his forehead. “Swallow it all,” he commanded, which I instinctively ended up doing.

“Come here now,” Doyoung’s voice spoke up, as he sat on the couch, patting his lap. I saw as his cock stood proudly against his stomach. I crawled to him. “Put your back against me and put it in yourself,” he said. So then I turned around, grabbing his hard cock and began inserting it inside me. I felt as his cock stretched me out the deeper he went in. “Yes, just like that baby… It’s almost all in,” Doyoung groaned.

“She’s so tight Jaehyun, I guess all that stimulation did nothing to her,” Doyoung chuckled as he turned to the other male. I turned to look at Jaehyun who just kneeled on the couch, fisting his cock. Then suddenly, Doyoung plunged the rest of his cock into me. No warning, just the grip he had on hips. With him all inside me now, I felt as his cock hit my cervix. I whisper lowly, “S’ good.”

“What was that? You like that?” he said, as he began thrusting into me. Who was I to deny what he just said, I loved it. “Ye-Yes you feel so good!” The phrase that slipped past my lips only caused his thrust to become deeper and rougher. Doyoung was treating me like his personal toy. He kept ruthlessly pounded into me, until it came to a halt. “Making me do all the work?”

I turned around, nodding my head no. “Hmm, is that so? I’m tired, why don’t you do it now,” Doyoung says, a slight smirk appearing on his face. So I did, thrusting slowly at first. “Stop the teasing, go faster baby,” Doyoung whispers into my ear. And so I grip onto his thighs, bouncing myself on his cock.

In the midst of it all, Jaehyun continued watching us contently while fisting his cock, he enjoyed the sight in front of him. You, a whimpering mess who was so cock drunk already. He wanted to get a taste of that sweet, tight cunt of yours soon because if he wasn’t already, he’d go insane.

“God, Doyoung I’m cl-close.” My stomach was tightening up, so close to unleashing. “Ready to cum all over my cock,” he replied. I yelled out “yes” as I repeated his name over and over again. “Open your eyes,” another voice said. And so I fluttered them open, Jaehyun’s cock in front of me. I watched as he jerked himself in front of me. It only turned me on even more.

“Shit, you like that? Like watching Jaehyun jerk himself off to you fucking me?” Doyoung says. I tightened even more around his cock, causing Doyoung to groan. His hands roamed down to my clit. He rubbed and pinched the poor thing continuously.

Just a few more thrusts and I came for the third time this night. My back arched, eyes rolling back, and moan and after moan slipping out. However, it didn’t stop here. Doyoung brought his hands back to my hips and kept fucking me through my orgasm. It was all too overstimulating, I felt I could even cum again.

“Fuck, I’m cumming. Don’t waste any drop,” Doyoung groans, finally cumming. His warm seeds painting my walls white. At the same time, Jaehyun also came, cumming all over my breasts. All three of us were heaving, trying to gather some oxygen back into our bodies.

“Don’t think we’re done here,” Jaehyun chuckles. He gently picks me up, bending me over the couch. My hands gripping it, while my ass stuck up. I felt his hand come in contact with my ass cheek in a harsh slap, causing me to yelp forward.

Jaehyun wasted no time, plunging himself deep and snug into my cunt. “Fuck, Doyoung wasn’t lying. How are you still so tight?” Jaehyun says, as he pounds in and out of me. I don’t even know who I am anymore, I could only think of how deep Jaehyun was reaching me. He hit my g-spot so well with every thrust I could barely contain myself. I ended up squirting all over for the first time tonight.

“Making a mess,” Doyoung’s voice spoke. I tried opening my eyes to locate him, only for him to be besides me. We locked eyes, and his lips later engulfed mine. It was a sloppy kiss, but I didn’t care. It felt good, everything felt good. Jaehyun’s thrust too became sloppy, it could only mean he was close too. And so with a thrust or two later, he came in me.

My stomach feels so full now. This is what I’ve wanted. This is what I-

Jaehyun’s POV.

“Shit, did you kill her with your dick?” Doyoung says, laughing as he puts his pants back on.

“So funny, she’s just fallen asleep,” I replied. “Think we went too far?” Doyoung continues.

“Probably, but hey she said she wanted it. Wanted both of us,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. I took Y/N into my arms while Doyoung began cleaning the couch. Luckily, the couch was made of leather so it shouldn’t be too hard right?

I looked down at her. Y/L/N. From the moment I first met her at that store, I fell in love. I know as cliche as it sounds, it’s true. There was something so captivating about her, something that made me want her. All of her.

So when I saw her that day, her first day here I knew it meant something. Fate? Whatever it was, I didn't want to waste any opportunity. Which is why that day at the dinner, I did that. It wasn’t planned or anything, but I just felt something that day. Some urgence?

However, then I learned of Doyoung’s mutual interest in her too. We talked it out, but we left it at “It’s whoever she wants. Whoever she chooses.” But to my surprise, it ended up being both of us.

I smiled down at her sleeping face. She’s cute. Everything about her was just so beautiful. Whether what just happened ends up being a regret for her once she wakes up, I hope she knows or at least has some awareness of our feelings for her.

“Hey!” Doyoung yells, capturing me out of my haze. “I finished cleaning it, bring her over here so we can wipe her clean.”

I nodded, placing her gently back down onto the couch. Doyoung began cleaning her with a wet cloth he got from our private bathroom. “Go get her a pair of clothes, in the meantime Jae,” Doyoung says.

“Mmm, be right back then.”

I exited, leaving them behind. On the elevator ride, my thoughts were consumed with questions. Good and bad ones. In particular, “What will happen once she wakes up?” I tried shrugging them off, as my answers will come once she wakes up.

“Hm?” I stirred my eyes open. ‘Where am I? This isn’t my apartment?’

“Awake already, sleeping beauty?” A voice said. I recognized that voice… Doyoung!

“A-Ah I-” “Water?” Jaehyun says, handing me a water bottle. I gladly accepted it, my throat felt quite dry. ‘Wait a minute… Oh Shit!’ I nearly choked on the water as I remembered what had transpired a couple hours ago. I looked outside their windows, the night sky illuminating.

“Uhm… I-” Jaehyun interrupts me, “regret it?” I looked at him puzzled, ‘regret?’

“What? No, No! I… I just don’t know what I should say, what I should do…”

“Well, it’s whatever you want Y/N,” Doyoung says, getting closer. “You want us to be friends, we’ll go back to that. You want us to be fuck buddies with one another, we’ll do it. You want to put a label on it, we’ll do that too.”

Is he serious right now?! The three of us? Wouldn’t I be asking for too much? Is it greedy of me that I want that. I want to be with them. I want Doyoung. I want Jaehyun.

I look at the floor, trying to hide my embarrassment from what I was about to admit. “I- I want us to be together. Me, Doyoung, and Jaehyun.”

It went silent, neither of them spoke up. So I took the courage to then look up. I flinched, at how close they’d gotten, standing only a few inches away.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Jaehyun asks. I nod, “Yes, is it selfish of me to?”

Jaehyun nods, “No. Be as selfish as you want with us.” To which Doyoung adds, “We just want you to be happy.”

I feel like crying again, only happy tears though. How could this even be my life right now? A tear trickled down. Then another, and another until I felt both of them wipe them off my face.

I smiled, “Thank you. Thank-”

“There’s no need to thank us. We love you,” Doyoung says, smiling as well.

“He’s right. We love you Y/N,” Jaehyun adds. We all smiled, engulfed in each other's warmth.

Today might’ve just been the best day of my life. No matter what the future brought us, I would be prepared to face it because after all I wasn’t alone.

It was me, Doyoung, and Jaehyun. It was us against the world.

Bonus!

I shifted to the other side of the bed, but a strong hold on me prevented me from doing so. I stirred my eyes open, Jaehyun. Ah, that’s right, this was my life now. I’d moved in with Jaehyun and Doyoung a week ago but the whole thing hasn’t really sunk in yet.

“Good morning,” he muttered. “Admiring me already?”

“N-No!” I refuted. It was barely morning and here he is teasing me already.

He chuckled, and then leaned in to kiss my temple. “Sleep well?” I muttered a small, “Yes” before snuggling against his bare chest. I’ve always felt so safe around him, and Doyoung. They made me feel so safe and loved.

We stayed like that for a while until I felt his hands come down to grope my ass. A shameless man he is. ”Where’s Doyoung?” I asked.

“Work probably,” Jaehyun says as he works his lips from my ear to my jaw. He kissed me so tenderly, every touch of his lips felt so warm; his embrace so warm. Jaehyun’s lips then lingered to my mouth, engulfing me into a tender kiss. It always went like this, he would be gentle but then go rougher. His tongue intruding, teeth clashing, and occasional lip biting.

“So I got you all to myself huh,” he whispered in my ear. I giggled before capturing him in another heated kiss that ended up with Jaehyun on top of me.

His hands roamed all over my body, from my waist to hips to breasts. He squeezed my breasts, pinching my nipples that sent an electric shock throughout my body. Oh god.

He parted from our kiss only to look down at my embarrassingly lustful state. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Every part of you baby.”

My heart throbbed at his statement, my face probably beet red. He then began removing my top, leaving my shorts and panties on. He brought his mouth towards one of my breasts, where he began licking it and sucking on my nipple. Later, he returned the same affection to the other neglected breast. I was a squirming mess, I tried getting friction from somewhere, anywhere. God, I was so fucking wet already, I could feel it as it pooled between my legs.

“Eagered like always,” Jaehyun said with a pop as he let go of my breast. His lips kissed down until they reached the waistband of my shorts. Those poor things were off in seconds, along with my panties. I watched as Jaehyun spread my legs open, “God, so wet already.” I moaned his name when I felt him tease my folds with his fingers, and then a Slap.

I widened my eyes at his action. Then again, another Slap. “You like that,” he says, coming closer to my ear. “You like it when I slap your sweet cunt.”

Slap. Oh fuck, was this good. Slap. “Y-Yes!” I yelled. He wasn’t stopping, continuously torturing my cunt. “Look at all this mess you’re making so early in the morning,” Jaehyun’s voice says, bringing his hand to his mouth. I watched as he licked his fingers clean of my essence.

“Get on your hands and knees for me baby,” he later says. I complied, getting in the position he most enjoys. I moaned out even louder when he slid his cock so easily inside me. “Fuck, so wet that it slid right in.”

Grabbing my arms, holding them from behind me, he started mercifully thrusting into me. His cock reaching the deepest part of me like it always has. I was enjoying this so much that I just kept moaning louder and louder.

“Having fun without me?” A voice rose. I quickly looked up, capturing Doyoung’s figure. Oh god.

With another thrust I moaned again. “I was wondering what was going on since I heard screaming, but it looks like our girl was just horny wasn’t she?”

Jaehyun speaks up while thrusting into me, “Yep… Mmm, she thought you… were gone and pounced onto me. Poor thing I couldn't just neglect her.”

“N-No! He- He is ly-lying,” I tried saying. “Lying? Me? You hear that Doyoung she’s accusing me of lying,” Jaehyun says smugly.

“I know, don’t you think she deserves a lesson?” Doyoung questions Jaehyun. Jaehyun chuckles in satisfaction. Oh, no…

Thus, I found myself sucking off Doyoung’s cock while Jaehyun continued pounding into me like some ruthless beast. “Just like that, a little deeper,” Doyoung groans. He watches me intently as I suck his cock into my mouth, but that didn’t last long. Doyoung ended up taking control, thrusting into my throat like I was his personal pleasure toy. Which I admit, I probably was, but hey he was mine too.

“Your pussy swallows me up so well, fuck I’ll never get tired of this,” Jaehyun groans. His thrust had gotten sloppy, meaning he was close to cumming. Good thing I was too as I started squeezing around his cock. I felt Jaehyun’s hand snake to my stomach and then further down. His fingers pinched and rubbed on my clit. I moaned into Doyoung’s cock, the sensation causing his cock to twitch in my mouth.

“I’m cumming,” Jaehyun groaned, thrusting his cock into me one last time. I also met my orgasm, cumming all over Jaehyun’s cock. He must’ve been watching as our cum mixed together, oozing out of my pussy.

“Shit, I’m cumming too,” Doyoung abruptly says, releasing his seeds inside my mouth.

Once we both caught our breaths it was back to fucking again. There was no stopping us once we started. Which was how I ended up with Doyoung’s cock buried within me. “Spread your legs wider,” Doyoung says. “Good girl, keep 'em like that.”

“Open your mouth,” Jaehyun says from the side. I opened it only for him to spit in my mouth and then start kissing me again. My lips are going to be so swollen from all the kissing, but my pussy from all the rough pounding. However, those concerns were at the bottom of my list. The pleasure they kept giving me was too blissful.

I love this. I love Doyoung. I love Jaehyun. “I love you,” I whispered, just loud enough for them both to hear. The three-word phrases elicited a small smile on their faces.

“We love you more.”

24.05.02

final a.n: hi again! i would like to apologize for the delay. i think i have spoken up about this before but i would like to inform u all that as i am still a student, it can be hard to juggle all things at once. im very sorry for not uploading during the month of april, it truly saddens me but with school on my plate its been rather difficult. however, from now on i promise to at least post once a month. thank you for your patience i truly am grateful to every single one of you! i love you all <3!!!!!!!

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woonhakist · 1 year ago

Text

FIVE NIGHTS AT JAEHYUN’S

SYNOPSIS — the rumors about your local pizzeria having haunted animatronics didn’t stop you from drooling over minimum wage, so settling for the guard job was easy—until a certain animatronic did get a bit quirky at night.

GENRE — social media au, fnaf au, crack, maybe SLIGHTLY scary for 2 mins, romance, fun for everyone

PAIRING — myung jaehyun x fem!reader

CHARACTERS — mainly y/n + boynextdoor, mark + johnny + doyoung of nct

WARNINGS — this will NOT be that lore accurate its just for the funs (faz)bear with me, cursing, sexual innuendos/jokes (probably), drug jokes (probably), mostly crack, ignore timestamps, characters are works of fiction NOT an accurate representation of the people used (extra warnings in future chapters)

TAGLIST — (CLOSED)

STATUS — complete!

NOTES — i HAD to release something silly for october/halloween so HERE IT IS! i’ll return to bloxian banter and who! later …

PROFILES (1) | PROFILES (2)

CHAPTERS

NIGHT 0: PROLOGUE

NIGHT 1

1. commander bootybrawler on duty

2. I Am Freddy

BONUS: johnny puth

NIGHT 2

1. soul finding by Kim Woonhak

2. IWANTOKISSROBOTITIS

NIGHT 3

1. greasing for the rusty fur

2. freddy fazbear is an iphone user???

BONUS: doyoung’s babysitting business (CALL 1-800-KYS-NOW TO BOOK)

NIGHT 4

1. The Unveiling.

2. what came first, the chica or the egg?

NIGHT 5

1. beauty and the bear

2. how to get a girl in five nights (at freddy’s)

BONUS: job quitters: the trilogy

NIGHT 6: EPILOGUE

start — 10/9/23

end — 6/20/24

#woonhakist #five nights at jaehyun’s #boynextdoor #boynextdoor smau #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor scenarios #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor au #boynextdoor crack #boynextdoor fluff #boynextdoor jaehyun #myung jaehyun #myung jaehyun x reader #myung jaehyun smau #myung jaehyun au #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines

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hexonthepeach · 9 months ago

Text

perfume - k.dy

pairing: f4!nct doyoung x fem!reader (past johnny x reader mentions)

genre: hana yori dango/boys over flowers/meteor garden/f4 thailand reverse harem au (mild allusions and characterization only)

warnings:

bully-to-friends-to-lovers, established relationship, polyamory, dom!doyoung, glucose father adjacent, scent kink, control over food consumption/bathing (for scent kink purposes only), gratuitous use of the l-word by anti-romantics, angst/feelings, flashbacks and history

🔞 edging, cockwarming, orgasm denial, oral (m/f receiving), passionate sex, rough sex, spanking, creampie, bukkake, consensual negotiated kink (degradation, somnophilia), anal play (f receiving)

wordcount: 20k

author's note: this is a doyoung-centered continuation of my ongoing F4 au. it can stand on it's own but i recommend reading Dive for more context. Doyoung's role in the F4 is Sojirou Nishikado/So Yijung/Ximen/Kavin (playboy control freak) so this fic incorporates elements of his secondary romance within the original/adaptations, now with y/n.

read on AO3

fic headers / dividers credit to @ saradika + please do not repost

Freshman year, Kocher International.

Head down in your books at lunch, trying so hard to escape scrutiny from above, you pretend to be no one.

It shouldn't be hard to be nobody, otherwise ignored and immune to whatever social contract deliberates your life. In a better world you'd be invisible. It's a superpower you'd wish for much more over the usual playground answers of super speed or control of the weather.

Let me be unobserved, you'd thought. Let me open a door and not worry about a bucket full of dirty mop water falling on my head or the inevitable posting of a grainy video of it, posted in a Telegram channel to fulfill some checklist made up by bored, rich monsters.

Your four-generation-behind phone with its cracked screen proved useful in some regards; you never heard about these public pillories until some kind stranger sent you a screenshot of them, usually in the context of whatever plans they'd made to torture you again.

Every notification is already a pain, driving splintered glass into the pads of your fingers. Just now you're reading a text message from your father asking you to pick up more cheap instant noodles from the convenience store on your walk home to round out whatever scraps he's picked up from the local restaurant your mother bussed tables and cleaned dishes at when she needed extra money.

"Why is Saint Kim watching you?" your friend asks across the table. She's been looking up at the room this entire time, unable to give you even a moment of her attention or assistance to finish the English homework you'd been working on. You'd been rushing all day to finish it before afternoon class, after a late morning of delivery driving for your family's drycleaning business.

"Are you sure it's not the Devil?" you ask, parsing through the lines of a book you'd bought secondhand, trying to match verse for verse.

"No," she says, shaking her head when you finally look up. "Don't react. He's coming this way."

"Shit," you say under your breath, eyes flicking to your untouched lunch. "I need you to leave now. Take these trays and dump them and I'll meet you outside of 4th. If I make it."

You don't look up from your book as you mutter, but you follow her path and her hesitancy as she internally debates whether to heed your warning or watch from a safe distance.

Your handwriting becomes a scrawl of nonsense you have to cross out in sharp lines. You begin the verse again, holding your breath as you will your entire body and mind back to a manufactured calm.

If you can't be invisible, you can at least play your role. You're copacetic by the time you see the tips of polished black wingtips beside you, before you hear the Saint clear his throat.

“Y/N.”

He drops a familiar, school-mandated clear cosmetics bag next to your ratty backpack. The already embarrassing stash of tampons and old chapstick has a new bounty including a "used" pregnancy test stick with a second line drawn in with pink gel pen jumbled into its contents.

"You left this . . ." he says, not finishing the sentence to indicate where he'd found it. You immediately hear a titter. Your flock of spectators is growing by the second and the useful idiot at its center seems wholly unconcerned.

"Thanks," you say, not bothering to look up or to even hide the bag. You keep writing, blindly, the English words just rounded shapes flowing from your shaking hand.

Their kind fed off attention, your only defense is to starve them of it.

The Saint clears his throat, again. Apparently he’s not just unconcerned, he’s also unwilling to leave.

"Aren't you grateful Doie found it before someone else did?" You don’t have to look up to know it's Miranda who’s asked, glimpsing her manicure as she picks up your bag, green gems shining on perfectly-tipped nails.

"Oh this must not be hers. I didn't think she could afford this."

You think she might be diving into the stash for one of the Lilies' pointed additions but no–you watch in horror as she plucks out the bottle of perfume you'd been carrying with you since your parents had gifted you a single, tiny box last Christmas.

"Chanel?" she says, laughing. "No wonder you smell like my grandma."

"Probably a knock-off," another of the Lilies says. Ginger, by the sound of her grating voice. Her handwriting on the board in homeroom listing out your abortions is as familiar as the pink gel pen script on the extra large foil condom with xoxo slut written on it staring at you through the plastic.

"Definitely a knock-off. You have a nose, don't you, Doie?"

You look up, finally, at Saint Kim. He's alone for once–the other one, the Devil Kim that shadows him is still up on the second level, leaning on the railing over his shoulder. You watch the Saint’s small mouth turn into a moue of distaste, nose wrinkling at the proffered bottle.

"Authentic," he says, capping it before offering it back to you. Your field of vision is obstructed by that veined, pale hand–fingernails as perfectly groomed as the rich girls who surround him.

You reach up to take your most prized possession back only to find he doesn't let go, holding tight when you try to pluck it from his fingers.

"You should know . . . " he says, sniffing slightly.

You look up at him with alarm blazing in your eyes. Every word Kim Doyoung says to you writes your next damnation. You should ignore him, run, anything–but you can't look away once you've met his assessing gaze, his tall frame limned in the fluorescent cafeteria lights like he's carrying his own personal halo.

Even seeing him at a distance every day can't depreciate how ethereally handsome he is. You know better than to swoon at that elegant face, night-black hair pushed away from his forehead. Beneath his family’s charities and his PR-scripted concern you know he’s just another ungodly creation birthed of nepotism and curated genes.

He leans in, carefully, musical voice a whisper.

"You should know it doesn't suit you."

The laughter that follows is deafening.

No, you think. He's just as soulless as the rest of them.

“What do you mean actually sleep?" you ask, coyly, unbuttoning your romper. "Like after we . . . ?"

"I've managed 6 hours of sleep in 36 hours, y/n–” Doyoung seems to hesitate, dark eyebrows raising, hand pushing his hair back from his pale forehead. He snaps his laptop closed, at last, shoving it to the farthest edge of the bedside table.

No–you think–not hesitation.

Frustration.

You've seen this man before.

All work and no play made Saint Kim into a Prince of Hell. He'd spent the first 8 hours of your date day half-present–the other in the 4 hours of sleep he's gotten since some crisis at his family’s headquarters in London that usurped your vacation.

A whole 2 days in which he hasn't held you at all. His rules, his chance, but you can't help but wonder what has him so clenched that he's barely even touched you since your date began at 6 am Bangkok time.

You'd taken two extra strength melatonin and slept like the dead, anticipating his early-riser schedule. Only you and God had to know you'd fallen asleep next to your day tour fit ready to be fucked in it.

You’d made yourself so pretty only to find him in the kitchen hunched over his phone, laptop softly pinging with notifications. Doyoung had still been dressed in the clothes you'd seen him in the night before, ending his conference call to laser in on you hovering in the kitchen.

"Are you upset?" Doyoung asked.

"No," you'd lied, pushing the piece of paper he'd left the staff on the counter, his English handwriting crisp and formal. "What’s this?"

"We have a few dietary restrictions today," he’d said.

"Are you saying I am what I eat?" You’d asked, taking a bite of a plump strawberry. "Is this some kind of prep?"

"It's for the date," he'd said, resigned. "Just be patient with me."

Then he'd smiled, disarming you with a casualness you hadn’t seen on him in a long time, rubbing his eyes blearily under his thick glasses.

"Can we go back to sleep?"

And so you'd settled into his grasp on your made bed, scrolling Insta and waiting for the inevitable alarm–which turned out just to be Jungwoo delivering two iced Americanos in some gambit of checking your progress.

"Missed the floating market opening?" Jungwoo asked, eyebrows raised at the sight of Doyoung face first in a pillow.

You'd silently mouthed your thanks, leaving the drinks to sweat on the bedside table as you changed into your second outfit of the day, occasionally drifting in to check on your sleeping beauty.

It was a rare delight to have him so vulnerable beside you, blanket rucked up beneath his chin and his white teeth visible past the sweet curves of his mouth. Without consciousness your partner for the day is just Kim Doyoung, the gentler side of the same creature who you knew would often choose a couch to watch serial television with you over a day trip if you wanted it.

But this was different.

Now instead of using his precious time to fulfill what you'd felt promised in his casual brushes against your back when you'd finally traveled out, or the way he'd stroked your leg at brunch under the table (every bite chosen by him, of course), you're being railroaded into lying still while he sleeps.

Again.

You continue undressing, letting him drink in the sight of the lingerie set he’d left in your room. You knew it was custom made by the way it lifted each curve he’d already had access to, tailored for you as if every millimeter of your body was to account for.

Doyoung's cheeks are hollowed, lip chewed. He pulls his glasses down and regards you even more as you continue to undress yourself.

"You do know what the word 'nap' means, don't you?"

"I'm not the one who hasn't slept," you say. "At least let me get comfortable."

His stare pierces into you as you turn around, stripping for utility rather than give him a show he clearly hasn’t earned. You check yourself in the floor-length mirror beside the bathroom, viewing yourself through his eyes as you pluck the lace over your curves to sit just right.

“Do you like it?” you ask.

You may as well be speaking to the floor when you turn around, finding him buried in the pillows only by the dark fall of his hair.

“You can’t be that tired,” you say.

You're used to taking a late afternoon siesta in peak summer but you're far too excited to even consider sleep right now. For one, it's sweltering–windows open to allow the noises of hawkers and traffic not far off to drift in.

Second, you've never been more turned on in your life.

You can still feel the tingling in your toes from when he’d slipped his hand up under the hem of your shorts, teasing at the velvety smooth skin on your inner thigh as you tried not to choke on your mimosa.

You make your way to the bed languidly, crawling up the thick white duvet with a teasing smile.

"Just stay on your side of the bed, please," Doyoung says.

"Oh," you say, collapsing on top of the covers beside him. "Well you're no fun."

"And you're impatient and uncouth," he retorts in a way that makes you wonder if he really means it.

"Will you at least hold onto me?"

"Too hot." He rolls on his back, flapping his half-buttoned shirt in the breeze from the fans. You sigh dramatically, collapsing into the pillows in the middle of the bed.

"You should get naked, then.” You say. “Don't be modest on my account."

He opens one eye to glare at you, finding you relaxed and inviting beside him. His throat bobs, gaze flicking to the ceiling.

"That year of celibacy really took a toll on you, didn't it? Two hours. Indulge me."

"Please, sir," you whisper. "I've been such a good girl."

It had been a stipulation of the F4’s latest deal–24 hours for you to recover from your first night before the gauntlet began. Doyoung had been more than strict about the terms, leaving you your own set of instructions including–not surprisingly–not touching yourself.

Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t think about masturbation constantly, at all hours of the day. He may as well have told you to try not to think about a white bear for how powerful the intrusive thought had taken over since then.

"You'll get your reward. Later," he says. He's an impassable wall, stretched out beside you, so you content yourself with staring at his profile. Even under these oppressive circumstances you appreciate the light dusting of freckles on his cheek brought out by the sun, the dark lashes dusting his cheeks over the slight bluish marks of sleep deprivation.

"Yes, sir."

It only takes a few minutes for him to snap at you again.

"Stop that,"

"Stop what?"

"Getting so handsy."

You hadn’t even realized your hand had drifted over the plane of his belly under his white shirt, too absorbed with watching the muscles in his cheek spasm as you inched nearer.

"Can I help it when you're right there?" you ask. "I thought this was your–"

Doyoung rolls you before you can slither any closer, pressing your back into the sheets with his hands on your wrists, knees digging into your thighs.

If the intention was to get you to stop being uncomfortably turned on it has the opposite effect: you let out a moan of pleasure, legs twisting together for friction. He slams them shut between his own, groin pressed into yours.

He's as hard as you hoped, and you lift up into him to let him know you know it.

"If you don't behave I'll have to cancel this," he warns directly in your ear, sounding as choked as you feel. "I thought you were already trained."

"Trained to fight back," you correct, pressing against him with your own strength.

"That's not trained," he says, lifting up. "I'll blame your lack of experience and experienced partners. Nothing we can't work on. Until then you'll follow my rules or I pull you from the game. Understood?"

You let a few beats pass, accepting there's no way out and you don't have anything to throw back at him.

"Yes, sir," you pout.

"Now that's a good girl," he says.

Just as quickly as you were taken down you're let go, inhaling deeply now that you're not being pressed into the soft bed.

"You really don't want to play with me before you sleep?" you ask, brushing your lips against his chin as he crouches over you. You’d be a liar if you didn’t say you enjoyed the way his nostrils flare a bit, working his pink bottom lip between his teeth. Whatever arbitrary rules he’d set for your time together you can tell he’s at least regretting it right now, stiff length brushing against your bare leg as you lift your knee to test it.

“Are you trying to make me punish you?” he asks, voice husky.

"I thought you liked it when I was a brat," you say, cocking your head.

Doyoung sighs, eyes half-lidded. "I do. But not when you're using it to avoid intimacy."

Your throat clenches, a hard knot forming in it you can't seem to swallow as your face gets even hotter.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“I think you know what I mean,” he continues. “It’s not like we both don’t have a habit of using sex as a distraction from anything emotionally challenging.”

You gape up at him in disbelief.

Of course you’d never been able to hide that aspect of your last relationship with him when he’d often been right outside the door. All of the F4 knew how many times your arguments with he-who-should-not-be-named-especially-not-while-in-bed-with-his-best-friend had ended in you shutting him up by any means necessary. Not that you didn’t enjoy it at the time–but rather you understood it wasn’t the most healthy template for a relationship.

"I thought this wasn't going to be about feelings," you blurt out.

“Proving my point.”

Doyoung tsks, tapping your cheek with his fingers–nowhere near a slap but just as effective, soothing the spot with his thumb. Soon he’s brushing your tears away when they inevitably spring up and you have to turn to hide their seep into the mass of pillows.

"If I wanted therapy I wouldn't be here, Kim Doyoung," you say, trying to bury your face in the piles of soft down.

“Shh, silly girl,” He gently pulls you out from hiding, soothing you with a warm kiss against your forehead when you stop struggling and let him hold you, releasing that surge of emotion and writing it off to hormones and the sting of rejection.

“You know I’m speaking to myself here, too,” he states softly. “Bear with me, I’m learning.”

"Do you even really like me?" you ask, face pressed into his chest.

It’s horrible to admit this specific insecurity but you can’t help it. Being abandoned multiple times in your life when you’d finally, finally let your walls down would damage anyone’s trust. You’d hoped this day with him would be easy and carefree and light, not dimmed by the shadows of your anti-romantic histories.

"I adore you, actually." He settles partially on top of you, leg wrapped over yours as he props himself up on his elbow. "Which is why I want to start this right. You wanted the F4 boyfriend experience. This is mine."

"Last I checked you’ve never seriously dated anyone," you groan, sniffling.

"Last I checked, neither have you."

Well, that connects. You swallow your fears, relaxing into the cage of his embrace, retreating a little from the vulnerability of being exposed.

"What kind of girlfriend experience were you expecting, then?"

A lazy smile gusts across his features. You can't help but find it a bit sinister after being handled so indelicately.

“I don’t always know what’s going on in that empty little head of yours." He accompanies his statement with a brush of his thumb across your flushed cheek, tracing your semi-parted lips in a way that sends sparks down to your core.

"I’d like to stop guessing and actually get you to let me treat you the way you want to be treated. Have you ever asked yourself what you want?"

You panic a little, considering his words. Living with disappointment had made this question a hard one to even consider.

"I just want a good time. Isn't that what you want, too?"

Doyoung seems to ignore your ask, drifting into a relaxed state against the pillows. His hand traces the hairline at your temple. "You know I worry about you. All the time, actually.”

His voice is lower, a little wistful, and it’s doing just as much as the slight brushes of his fingertips to make you throb all over again. A lack of sleep must have made him delusional, you think. This is not the Kim Doyoung you know.

“You’re always thinking of how to take care of the people around you, I think you’ve forgotten how to relax and let other people take care of you.”

"Is that why you're always involving yourself in my business?" you ask, matching his tone in how breathless you are. You expect a quip, not the sincerity written on his face when he swoops in to press a gentle kiss against your lips, too fleeting to be anything but sweet and sincere.

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do all this time? It certainly wasn’t just to get into your pants. I want you. All of you.”

You're taken aback by his honesty. You'd always suspected his constant meddling in your affairs came from a place of interest but you'd never wanted to give him too much of a response–maybe a little afraid his fickle nature and fear of commitment would mean he’d give up on your friendship, too.

Another thing you knew about Saint Kim: he had a tendency to run like a frightened rabbit at the first sign of emotional neediness in his partners. You'd never given him reason to believe you expected anything from him, but you'd also stopped fighting him on giving you what he desired to give.

It wasn’t just presents or expensive experiences, of course. He’d found out quickly those weren’t welcome without some cajoling. No–his art was in knowing what you needed even before you realized it, nudging it across your path.

You’d figured out his deviousness after the umpteenth time someone was charitable at your little florist shop part time job, offering to fix your scooter in exchange for a nice arrangement for a proposal. As soon as you’d seen the fully restored bike outside and the customer didn’t return your texts you’d called Doyoung, completely unsurprised to find he was at the coffee shop next door, waiting to pick up his flowers.

“Stop being so nice to me,” you’d said. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

“What makes you think I’m giving you charity,” he’d responded, dropping a department store bag and your own custom coffee order on the counter. “You’ll wear this when I come to pick you up tonight at closing, including the jewelry and perfume. I need you to play your part again. The flowers are a consolation for the heart we’re breaking.”

He’d enlisted you as his defacto “new girlfriend” for the more difficult separations, and though you’d gotten your share of a glass of expensive wine thrown in your face more often than he ever experienced it (his type always went after the easier target) it wasn’t like he didn’t have a replacement dress ready and a nice dinner waiting after you’d cleaned off the Chateau Lafitte Rothschild.

You have to face the fact that no matter how many times he’d treated you like his girlfriend, you’d never actually expected him to want you to be one.

“I’ve waited a very long time for this, Y/N. Which is why I want our first time together–alone," he adds quickly. "–To be special."

It's difficult to believe him but you're spellbound all the same, watching pink dust his cheeks and his ears turn a shade darker as he most likely realizes how ridiculous it is considering him fucking you senseless the other night with the help of two other men.

But you can empathize with his anxiety. Yesterday's Thai massage he'd arranged had helped you work out the flight or fight of anticipating being alone with him. It’s back now, but different. The way he's looking at you makes you feel infinitely naked, infinitely unlocked.

"What do you mean special?" you ask, wary, hoping to see some glimmer of uncertainty or falsehood in his gaze. You want to believe it's a lie or just some artful prank, trying to ignore your heart flip-flopping in your chest.

It’s a mistake to let him see you squirm considering it’s Doyoung’s drug of choice–his lips twist into another menacing grin as he plays with the charm on your necklace. Another of his little gifts.

"Do you think you can handle it?" Doyoung asks, dripping self-satisfaction. “Or are you going to chicken out on me?”

You turn over so he can't see your expression, realizing he’s throwing your own words from the night before right back at you.

"I haven’t decided if I want to date you, yet,” you say.

"Maybe not," he says. "But you'll have to pardon me for wanting to show you this good time you supposedly want while also treating you decently. Unless we're no longer friends?"

"We are," you say, biting your lip, "even if you enjoy torturing me."

"Torture?" He laughs, breathy.

"Metaphorically speaking."

"You have no idea, do you?" You can feel the edge of his glasses as he bites the place where your clavicle connects to your shoulder, his hand snaking around your bare middle.

"You could show me," you invite, mid-gasp, as your body responds to his long-awaited touch. His fingers are almost cool in contrast to the heat in the room, tracing circles in your skin that have you squirming.

"Is that a challenge?" he asks.

Why not?

"We don't have to have sex," you offer. "Maybe you could just–"

"Shh," he says, fingers skimming lower. "My terms. Are you going to stay quiet for me?"

You nod into the comforter, breath hitching as he touches you through the thin layer of your underwear, veined hand flexing as he molds the damp fabric to your body. It's such a delicate pressure but he's already memorized your shape, index finger sinking into your folds, gently rubbing a ring around your throbbing clit.

You're sticky and swelling with each pass, entranced by how good he is at teasing you, cherishing the way he sucks in his breath when he pushes into the indent of your hole.

“Doie,” you whine, leaning back into him, trying to get him to kiss you as he laughs into your hair.

“Quiet,” he reminds you, kissing your cheek and teasing the seat of your underwear where they're soaked the most. "You want to take these off?"

You shake your head, sensing it would be too easy of you to give in.

"That wasn't a question," he says, tugging down the band, leaving them trapped tight around your thighs. "I don't want you to wear them until I tell you that you can."

You feel your core clench at the way his voice cracks, his fingers sliding back up to slowly and delicately draw a thread of moisture from your bared slit. You whine a little when he stops touching you, bringing his fingertip to your lips.

"Taste it."

You let your mouth fall open, let him run it over your tongue, beginning from the middle and swirling over it.

"Describe it," he murmurs. "If I like your answer, maybe I'll indulge you more."

"Salt," you say, immediately.

He tugs your hair, making you meet his eyes.

"Have I taught you anything? I want specific notes. Flavors."

You're transported back to the time he'd taken you to your first (and last) wine tasting. Spitting into a bucket and being lectured about body and tannins and soil conditions was the last thing you'd wanted to do after an hours-long trip to a vineyard but you'd indulged him, allowed one glass of what he considered the only drinkable wine on the premises.

An unrefined palette, he'd called you.

"Fruity and floral," you make up. "A nice lingering finish. Want a taste?"

He looks down at you behind his glasses, equal parts amused and unimpressed. "Did you use the soap I asked you to?"

Your brain glitches at that. Had you? You'd been in such a rush to go out–

You gasp when he palms your breast, squeezing the meat of it through the breathable fabric of your matching bra.

"I'll take that as a no," he says. "I guess you're not ready."

He rolls off of you, leaving you in a lurch as you realize your legs are locked together by your underwear. You move to remove them, taking off your bra as well to avoid the awkwardness of being partially dressed.

By the time you're done you realize he's on his back, the hand that had been stroking you buried in his loose khakis.

"What are you doing?" you ask, more than a little pissed off at the sight of him masturbating as if you aren't ready and willing to assist beside him.

"Getting ready for our date. You can watch. No touching." He cracks an eye to look at you before closing it again. "Either of us."

"Are you edging me, Kim Doyoung?" Your menacing tone is entirely natural.

He hums a bit, working himself at a more punishing pace, knuckles peeking out from under his boxer briefs with each full pass over his length.

"Can't even look at me? Afraid you'll lose control?" You sidle down on the bed, beside his tensed thigh. You can smell a bit of the ozone on him from a morning in the sun, your knees knocking into his calves when you move over him.

"I don't trust you," he says, voice deeper than you've ever heard it.

"Is it touching if you finish on my face?" you ask when he finally blinks up at your presence, hovering over him with your breasts dangerously close to his clothed thighs.

"Absolutely not."

"Not touching–"

"Just. Watch," he orders.

He pulls himself free from his pants, surprising you with how dark and weeping his tip is as his thumb encircles it. Pools of white precum spatter on his lean, pale belly, your head dipping dangerously close–

"I said watch." He grabs at your hair, denied when you bend up again, showing him your dirty tongue.

He groans, fingers clenching air. "You were put on this earth to test me, weren't you?"

Still, he doesn't break his attention on the way you roll the drops you'd licked from his clean skin in your mouth, swallowing once you've fully enjoyed the taste.

"A little sweet you say," teasing him. "Drinking pineapple juice?"

"Brat," Doyoung says, but he's almost gone–eyes dark with desire, gently gripping your skull as you continue to ease in.

You're a master at following his lead, blowing a breath over the spot you'd licked, and then his length until his movements slow, cherishing the way you hold your mouth over his cock.

"If you can't give me what I want, then at least give me a taste," you say, sticking out your tongue in offering. You love the way he responds to the sight, needy and losing it when you hold eye contact, drilling into him.

"No," he echoes, weakly. He's too smart to push into your open mouth, instead driving his hips up to fuck his fist as you watch his glasses slide down his nose, eyes clenching shut.

"You're no fun," you say. "Just a little swallow can't hurt?"

"No. Don't want to ruin it," he says cryptically, making a choked noise as you brush his fingers with your nose and he has to pull you away.

"I promise you it . . . It will be worth it," he manages. His jaw clenches as his movements relax, finally in control of you both.

"It better be," you say.

You lower your lashes as your eyes flick between his cock and his face, stretching out your tongue to the point that drool begins to drip down your chin, splashing on his whitened knuckles and the tight stretch of his balls peeking out from his underwear. He bites his lip, breath holding as he starts to spiral.

The first thick rope of white rockets up his half-bared chest. Soon he's spurting even more, cum reaching his rucked up shirt, a little getting on his glasses.

He's so out of it he doesn't fight as you wrest out of his limp hold. You clean up the sticky mess on his skin with your tongue, his abdominal muscles twitching under the light flicks and drags.

"Want to give me some notes?" you ask, straddling him without resting any weight down, taking off his glasses. This time when you move to kiss him he rises weakly to meet you, lips parting to accept what you haven't swallowed.

In truth, he tastes wonderful. Coffee, a little menthol from toothpaste and a hint of the watermelon you'd shared earlier mix beneath the coat of his spend.

He licks into your mouth until you moan, your body throbbing with unfulfilled pleasure. You follow him as he sinks back into the pillows, enjoying having him at your disposal, your core leaving wet trails on his thigh when you brush against the fabric.

"I'm going to wait until you're asleep and use you if you don't help me get off," you threaten, pressing soft kisses to his slack face. It’s no use. Doyoung has passed out again, lower teeth visible as he snores softly, forehead sheened with drying sweat.

Fuck it, you think.

You ooze off of him to take your second cold shower of the day, and maybe get acquainted with one of the fancy showerheads in his massive walk-in while you use his special soap.

It's not–technically–touching yourself.

Your mystery destination isn't an unknown–it's in every tourist booklet and blog you'd skimmed before your trip, thinking you'd be on your own to find a good spot to traverse to. But it still takes your breath away the moment the car door opens in the sprawl of motorbikes and delivery trucks and Doyoung takes your hand to pull you into Paradise.

Pak Khlong Talat is a bustle of energy well after dark, the time you know its treasures are delivered fresh and unbloomed, wrapped in newspaper and steeped in crushed ice. For as far as you can see the market sprawls along Chak Phet road, but even more overwhelming than the sights and sounds is the scent.

Jasmine, roses, lavender. Thousands upon thousands of blooms strung up and tended to by night owl vendors, delicate arrangements hand-sewed by artisans streetside into garlands so well-crafted Doyoung has to tug you to keep you moving, onwards to some other unspoken destination.

"I was worried you might hate flowers after working with them for so long. I take it you like it?" he asks, indulging you when you ask if you can take his picture at a particularly lovely hang of garlands, the purple-blue light perfect for the film you'd loaded into your father's old camera. Photography had never been your craft, but after your dad had passed you'd made an effort to capture more of your memories, cherishing what you'd taken for granted before.

“It’s perfect,” you say, admiring him through the viewfinder. "But can you look like you're having fun?"

Your model is stiff, mouth a moue as he checks the street for other observers or a possible collision with a laden handcart.

"Fun?" Doyoung asks, and you snap his picture on the offbeat, enjoying his look of surprise.

“Like you've taken your date to one of the most romantic places on earth, after buttering her up with a night cruise of Chao Praya and finally letting her eat real food."

He sniffs at a fall of marigolds, a smug look on his face that you commit to film, right before he sneezes.

"For the record, we're eating after this. Som tam hardly counts as a meal, I just didn’t want that drink going to your head."

You're shepherded through the vast warehouse of the main market, to an adjacent street, and into a non-descript building painted in a funereal white.

"Are we even allowed to be here?" you ask, once the key code is entered and you enter the strange business.

"I called in a favor," he says, taking your hand, leading you up a metal staircase past a simple storefront of dried blooms and shelves laden with boxes and bottles alike.

An apothecary? An alchemist's shop? The purpose of the space eludes you.

"An atelier," Doyoung explains. "One of the most sought out in the world."

There's the distant hum of the city outside and a central air you're unused to in this climate but the upstairs is quiet–by all accounts either an office or a laboratory, or a mixture of both. The central working area is a chaotic but organized space filled with tables of glassware and dried floral arrangements contrasting potted orchids, small beakers of coffee beans littered amidst rows of labeled brown bottles.

"So this is how they make perfume," you say, inspecting a stoppered bottle labeled "Gerianol 10%".

"Not just any perfume. The best. Here." Doyoung leads you to a much less cluttered workstation, the desk arranged with the lights still on, a note detailing some instruction you can barely read before he slips it into the pocket of his slim-tailored pants. Beneath it is a notebook, scrawled with a perfect cursive English you recognize from the cards he’d included in boxes or bags whenever he’d bothered to claim their contents.

"Sit," he instructs. You think he means the comfortable chair but before you can sit down he presses you to the desk, caging you in.

"Sit," he repeats, hands on your hips through your slinky skirt, lifting you to the bench. You scoot back, carefully, the white blooms of some exotic flower brushing against your cheek until he can move the vase a careful distance.

"Do you understand what we’re doing here?"

You can't possibly know what he means, eye level with the graceful column of his neck and his exposed collarbone beneath his translucent button-down, drowning in the melange of scents but most especially his clean, neutral cologne.

"No," you say, honestly, heart beating fast.

He picks up a corked flask from some kind of metal scale, dipping a thin thread of paper into it to waft it a fair distance from your nose.

"Before we came here--before you even agreed to this trip–I sent instructions to my friend for a specialty blend of their creation. It took quite a bit of back-and-forth–I even visited here last month to take a private class and make sure we prepared the base and middle to your standards."

"For me?"

You feel dizzy, reaching out to take the sample and smell it again, his hand capturing your own before you can bring it too close to your nose. He wafts it for you, expectant as you absorb the details.

Indeed, it smells divine–exactly the kind of warm, bright notes that make your heart feel at ease. There’s something floral and citrus worked in, not too heavy, the finish leaving you with an impression of a lazy summer afternoon.

“It’s beautiful,” you say. “Did you make this to match what you knew I liked?”

"Yes.” Doyoung exhales, looking almost sheepish. "I had some references. That cheap shampoo you never stop buying, the Lush exfoliator with the orange blossom, even–" he shudders a bit– "that awful Chanel you doused yourself in, in high-school."

"Coco Mademoiselle," you say. "It's been years since I–"

"It didn't suit you," he says, standing up to sample another bottle from the neat row.

Something dawns on you, a distant memory locking into place.

"It was you," you gasp in realization. "You're the one who got rid of it. I should have known when you tried to give me that bottle of Jo Malone–"

“It had already turned. You need to store your scents away from direct light.”

“It was a keepsake!” There were very few possessions from your youth that you’d been able to hold onto–not only because your parents had been barely able to afford your school uniforms, much less gifts. What little you’d had was lost when your house was destroyed by the men your father owed money to, this small thing neglected in the destruction.

“It didn't suit you because it wasn't made for you," he continues. "You wore it because you thought it would make you fit in, when you should have made what you wore wear you–"

"Please, stop."

You have to bite your lip to the point of pain, remembering how excited you'd been to unwrap that tiny bit of luxury your parents had saved up to buy you, your mother sure the brand name would save you from another day of humiliation. You didn’t have the heart to tell them that the cutout ad from the magazine on your wall was for the model, not the actual perfume, but you felt loved by the gesture all the same.

Hundreds of thousands of won an ounce for it to only turn on your skin, well before afternoons spent on the basketball court under the thankless sun. That memento had aged from pink to a sickly rose unused on your cosmetic shelf, a totem from a time when you imagined yourself belonging. Before it had disappeared, like so many other things.

You can't remember the last time you'd worn anything, had never even gone near that section of a department store after the humiliation of being made fun of for smelling cheap.

“My dad skipped lunches and my mom worked double shifts to get that for Christmas my first year in Kocher,” you say. “Mira was the brand ambassador for that campaign, you know.”

Mira had been your idol even before you won the scholarship she’d established to attend Kocher. Perfect, beautiful, but most of all the first girl in their sphere to show you genuine kindness.

"It must be so easy for you," you say, wiping your face. You rarely cried these days but that memory was particularly painful, a reminder of how often you’d assumed Doyoung found you just as offensive. Not just your scent, you thought, but you.

Something to be tolerated. Below his regard.

"Whatever you want, you can have. Whatever you don't like, you can get rid of. I'm sorry, I don't live in your world. I can’t just throw something away when it’s not useful."

"No," he says, quietly, abandoning his explanation. "That was thoughtless of me. I can replace it–"

“Can you?” You glare up at him. “Is this what you really want? To dress me up like your perfect doll and feed me from your hand so I’m more able to suit you?

Doyoung looks like he's going to be ill, every design in his head unraveling before your eyes. You’d feel sorry for him if you didn't know this was a lesson worth imparting.

"Don't ever offer to replace what you don’t know the true value of," you say, voice trembling.

There's a weighted silence as he considers his next words. You still haven't slipped away from him, choosing to hold your ground. How many times had you been forced to be the antagonist in some fruitless class warfare, unresolved? But then you also had a habit of finding battles in peacetime.

You pluck the newest scent strip from his frozen hand and waft it between you, at the designated distance.

“Thank god this smells nothing like it,” you murmur. You offer him a wry smile, anger fading. “I couldn’t stand it.”

You feel Doyoung’s relief as he collapses against you, forehead against your hair as his arms wrap tight around your middle. You relax after a bit, cheek pressed to his collarbone as you breathe in his unique scent–a little like fresh laundry left out in the sun.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “All these promises and plans and stupid details and at the end of the day I really . . . Don't know what I'm doing."

"I really don’t know what you’re doing, either," you say. "But I like that you try.”

"You do?" The hope in his voice makes your iciness melt a bit. You let your hands twine around his neck, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease with the gesture.

“I know it’s not easy for me to admit but I do appreciate everything you do for me, Doie,” you say.

He doesn’t respond in words but you savor the shift in his demeanor, like a weight has been lifted from him. You think even he didn’t know it was there. You ignore the glassiness in his eyes when he pulls back, choosing to look at his notes instead.

“Are these all the ingredients?” you ask, working out a few of the more familiar words. “What’s op–?”

“First things first,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. "Did you touch yourself?"

"No," you say, surprised by the shift. "I followed your instructions. No products with scents. No underwear."

You spread your thighs to make your point. His hands hike your skirt up, over the breadth of skin to your hips and then to the curl of your belly, his breath hitching as he finds you already glossy.

It had been a bit of a gambit considering your riverside excursion but he'd allowed you a lemongrass-based repellent–the scent of which is still clinging to your bare skin as he kneels down to press a kiss to where his fingers had traced earlier.

You jerk a bit, conscientious of the workspace as he spreads you, just that light touch making your nipples harden beneath your thin shirt and bra.

“Are we allowed to–”

“Shh. Relax and try not to spill anything,” he interrupts, breath cooling your wetness. “I just need some inspiration.”

“What?”

"You’re so good already," he says into your sex, spreading you so he can lightly tongue at your skin. “Perfect little flower just for me.”

After waiting so long, you're torn between begging and shoving his teasing licks away, hand threading through his raven hair as the notebook slips from your hand.

"Kim Doyoung–” you gasp as he spears his tongue through your upper folds, nose nudging the sensitive bud. “–if this is another round of teasing I will murd–”

You yelp as he hunches down to wrap your legs around his shoulders, hands re-occupied by exposing you as you try to stay upright.

“Don’t worry. You can come like this. I want to know if you taste different after.”

You don't know what he means until his mouth closes over your clit, sucking just right. You jolt, pinched on the meat of your thigh until you can relax again, making little mewls as he rolls his thumbs alongside the point of contact.

“I want you inside of me,” you beg, feeling that fluttering sensation that heralds a build-up. “I wanted to come with you inside me.”

“Soon. Just need to be good while I sample you.”

“Sample?” Your hand sinks into his hair in panic, tugging, but Doyoung is too lost alternating between suckling at your sex and palpating you with a circling thumb, his beautiful hands gripping your thighs to keep you spread.

“Drip for me, first.”

“I don't think I can–”

“You giving up already?” Doyoung scoffs, smirking up at you with reddened lips, tongue-tip darting against your clit. Every brush of soft muscle makes you spasm a bit, belly tightening unfulfilled.

You shake your head, panting. “I just . . . Doie I want you inside me.”

“You can relax and take it,” he says, tongue wrapping around your labia, sucking slightly. Your head is buzzing, every stray thought removed by his exploration of you.

“Relax. If you don't I'll just have to try until you're begging for me to stop.”

“No, please, Doie. I'll be good,” you plead. “Just . . . need something inside. Hurts so bad being empty.”

“Hand me a pipette.”

“What?”

“The one that looks like an eyedropper,” he says, hand open to accept like he’s performing surgery. You fight to find the right glassware with his mouth still on you, efforts more focused and intense as your legs tense with each hit. You find the rubber-stoppered glass cylinder, stomach dropping.

“Is this safe?” You ask, gripping his mussed hair tighter when he pulls away for a moment.

“If you hold still, yes,” he taunts. You seize when you first feel the tip slip inside you. The glass is cool but warms to your body heat quickly, too slim to feel anything.

“Good girl,” he says. “You’re even pushing this out, you must be so tight.”

“I am. Too tight,” you groan. “Please don’t tease me anymore.”

He ignores you, focusing on his work, pulling the instrument free when he’s satisfied.

“Not bad,” he says, dropping it on the desk beside you before he’s back on his knees with his nose buried in your cunt. “Bet you can do better than that.”

“No, please, I need you–”

“Then drip for me,” he laughs into your leg, tracing the wetness down the crease in your thigh. You tense your hold on the desk’s edge when you feel his tongue prod at your entrance, muscle breaching your hole to lick into you. He makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat that has you plummeting just as he resumes stroking your clit through the slippery coat of your arousal.

Finally, you think, feeling the advent of tears for how wound tight you are, how desperate you are to feel him give you just one more point of contact with the ache inside.

“Oh god, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you repeat, the noises obscene as he drinks you in, other hand on your hip to hold you against his face. It’s not even the stimulation that makes you begin to come but the audible groan he releases as he feels you quake against his mouth, heels snagging on his shirt when the first wave breaks and those little tics inside you turn into powerful contractions around his tongue-tip taking everything you can give him.

He keeps licking you even when you’re begging for him to stop, nose tracing down to catch a stray drop from the back of your knee with a playful dart of his tongue.

“Was it worth it?” you ask, folding over him as he wipes his mouth clean in your drenched skirt. You know it’s just the start but you already feel wrung out and feather-light, wicking away the sweat that’s beaded on your own face despite the cool, dry air of the room.

“Hmm?” he hums a bit, disentangling to stand up and hold your face in his hands. His pupils are blown, sweat beading on his temples, but he looks as satisfied as you hoped he would be, your arousal drying on his slender features.

“All the prep,” you say. “Isn’t that why–do I taste as good as you expected after all that?”

Doyoung looks down on you, amused. Already you feel like you’re heating up again, with how his dark eyes flit to your mouth and back up again.

“You think I prefer you prepped?” he asks, angling his head down besides yours to whisper in your ear. “The next time I eat that perfect little pussy of yours I want it to be filthy.”

He traces the lobe with his teeth for good measure, pulling another moan out of you. “I’ll even make sure to wait until the other two have a go at you, first.”

You feel your heartbeat stutter as he presses his lips to your pulse point, tongue darting past his lips to dab at the sweat there.

“No, precious, I wanted to make sure the perfume we make tonight matches all of you.” Doyoung’s nose brushes your ear as he breathes in your scent. “Every time I wear it I’m going to remember the way you sounded when you first came for me and me only.”

The promise of it has you feeling a different kind of heat, dizzying for how much you want it to last past this night.

“Fuck,” you whisper explosively, eyes clenched shut to stay fixed upright, fisting the thin material of his collar as he pulls you from the countertop and against the hard planes of his body. “I need you. Now. Please.”

“I like hearing you say that,” he chuckles a bit. “But I’m going to make you earn it. You can wait a little longer. You made me wait years, after all.”

You let him guide you into his lap, in the chair, pushed into the desk as he opens the notebook to another page. And another, until you take over and explore it for yourself. In the dim golden light from the street outside you catch glimpses of colors and drawings, notes written of impressions and memories you’d all but forgotten in your haze of grief these past few years.

There’s even photographs taped to some of the pages–ones you know well by the fact that they’d been taken on your camera. Doyoung didn’t have Jaehyun’s artistic training but he did have an eye for capturing candid moments.

November, your first year of college. You’re standing in the first snow of the season, catching flakes on your tongue. You can still feel the burn of them, hear the murmur of the city dulled in a fresh blanket of white and taste the roasted yam you’d eaten, tossing it in your mittened hands until it was cool enough to peel.

Doyoung’s shoulder is off-kilter beside yours, unable to capture himself in the frame for all his long reach. The peek of the striped scarf you’d knitted for him in gray and blue is all that’s visible of him under his peacoat, the mismatched weave of it captured even in this poor exposure.

“Base note: cedarwood,” you read, carefully, eyes hazing a bit with emotion. Evergreen.

“I still have it, you know,” he murmurs against your temple. “I only stopped wearing it because it started unraveling.”

“I’d make you another but I quit knitting after making three scarves,” you say, wryly. “Well two and a half, actually, I ran out of yarn on Jungwoo’s and made him a hat instead.”

“I thought you were just trying to get him to hide that ridiculous military haircut,” Doyoung muses. “Keep going or we’ll be here all night.”

“Now you’re impatient?” you ask, cementing your flirtation by shifting in his lap. You can’t ignore the feeling of his erection folded against the curve of your ass, or the way he grunts when you find a better seat with it nestled between your thighs.

“Sometimes I forget you were put on this planet to vex me,” he says. You’re lifted up by the waist, a hand on your lower back the moment you’ve found the desk for support, face above the book.

“Why don’t you try reading until I’m satisfied you know exactly what you’re getting?”

You don’t fight him, elbows bent as he rucks up your skirt. You feel your face grow warm with blood as you find yourself exposed to him again, locked in by his legs and his groping touch reaching up beneath your shirt.

"Base notes: amber and–" you have to fight to keep your voice steady as he swats your exposed curves, hard enough to sting.

"Ambergris,” he corrects, voice fried with delight.

“Ambergris,” you repeat. “And white musk."

"Good. And?"

"Bisabol–" you begin, corrected with another slap on your ass that hits, hard, glass jingling on the table.

"Did you jump ahead?" He asks, knowing full well your eyes are swimming with tears.

"No sir," you say. “I didn’t think that was a real word.”

"Opoponax." He says, reaching over you to grab a bottle, dropping a thick oil on you and rubbing it into your bruising skin. "Also known as sweet myrrh. Go ahead. Keep reading."

"Source: distilled from resin from ancient groves in Somalia, bought in Mogadishu from a local orchard, all profits to fund schools and clinics for women displaced by civil war."

"Do you believe this to be a charitable effort?" He asks, hand spreading over your buttocks. You think he might be referring more to your arrangement than whatever is written on the page.

"No," you say. Your history and political know-how might be lacking but you've seen the wrong side of kindness. "It sounds like what people write to make themselves feel better about exploitation."

"Clever girl," he answers. You feel his nose brush against your skin, testing the mingling of scent with it. "Keep going."

You turn the page, swallowing back your protests. This spread is rich with text and color, a veritable garden bursting from the page. You fix on the first entry in the upper corner, bracing yourself for another faux pas.

"Heart notes: Turkish rose," you say. "What is this, poetry?"

"Aren’t you familiar with it?"

You shake your head, lips pursed in delight at the scrawl of English. “No.”

You let out a gasp as he bites the flesh nearer your back, the sting of it surely leaving a mark by the way the pain lingers.

"Read it," he says, dipping over you for another bottle. “You’ll remember.”

"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows," you dictate, stumbling over every word and yet never punished for it. Instead Doyoung lets a steady drip of the bottle fall down the back of your leg to your knee, his fingers bringing up the rest to mix what he's already poured on you.

"Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, with sweet musk-roses and with eglantine."

You end your recitation in a whisper, leather binding and paper gripped in your fingers as he massages the oil gently into your tingling skin, careful to avoid where your legs are locked together in arousal. You're heady with scent and sensation, awaiting some reminder that this isn't just a strange dream you’ve wandered into.

"There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, lulled in these flowers with dances and delight," he finishes for you as he paints the rest up your spine beneath your shirt. You let him ministrate on your body as the words settle, as time recedes and you face a version of your youth you’re not sure isn’t just fiction.

That book beside you, the first time he’d spoken to, long forgotten.

“Midsummer’s Night Dream,” you say, turning to face him again, settling between his thighs as he fails to meet your gaze. You lift his face with your fingers, cheeks indented by your gentle hold. “You remembered that, too?”

“It was the first time you ever looked at me,” he says. “And it felt like you saw right through me.”

No, you’re not dreaming. You’re the architect of this moment just as much as he’ll claim to be a cursory observer if confronted on it.

You take in his mismatched eyes–one folding a little more than the other when he smiles at you ruefully. Those freckles you’d never really spent time examining, a happy accident of the time he’d spent with you in the sun. His fingers catching yours for a moment when you weren’t paying attention.

But most of all, the haunted cast where he’d lost sleep managing someone else’s problems. When he’d still been worrying about yours.

“You’re always thinking of how to take care of the people around you, I think you’ve forgotten how to relax and let other people take care of you.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I don’t think I ever really saw you until now.”

“What didn’t you see?” he asks, expectantly.

Six years of his careful distance from you, that coldness and disinterest just another mask for someone who was as raw and vulnerable and real as you if you managed to pry open their shell. His tendency towards control, towards the knife’s slice of cutting you so cleanly from his life no one would know your name unless he spoke it aloud.

There wasn’t another human being in their right mind who’d last that test, your only grace being that he’d thought you were untouchable. His best friend’s girlfriend, of course. But beyond that, one of his best friends.

No, one of his only friends.

“What didn’t you see?”

It wouldn’t require money or taste or a family name to bring Saint Kim down to earth. Just time and small acts of resistance, like the beautiful shell remnants you’d spilled into his hands on that last trip to Maui together, when it had still been the five of you. Each ground down to a small disc with a perfect spiral at its center, a reminder of the beauty remaining in broken things.

You place the notebook in his hands, curling your fingers around his. The pages it’s opened to are sparsely constructed, besides the photographs nestled between. Only you two know what’s there, buried in black sands and blue waters. You can see his handwriting falter where he’s written the notes for this moment in your shared history, sketches of those shells, and flowers.

A single photograph of you watching the others playing in the surf, his shadow cutting across the stretch of your legs.

Top notes: Jasmine for sensuality.

Orange Blossom for innocence.

Plumeria, for admiration. a new beginning . . .

You recognize the creamy yellow-white flower he’d tucked behind your left ear when you’d fallen asleep beside him. A non-native plant to the island, you’d learned, worn to indicate one was taken. A weed, like you, now prized as a treasure.

“What didn’t you see?”

You pull back to look at him, giving him yourself without reservation.

“That I think you love me . . .” you say. “. . . Like I think I love you, too.”

He looks up at you, astounded, the chair beneath him creaking as he collapses.

For once you regret being beside him when you’d heard the same words spoken to him by other people, pulled into their lives without you ever remembering their names. The difference between you, you once believed, was that they didn’t mean it.

Now, you understand, they just never knew the true cost of losing him.

You watch him collect himself, running a hand back through his hair and curling into his seat, memories forgotten in his lap, bedamned. You’re sure the engines of Hell are running hot for the way he can’t even look at you right now.

He needs a way out, you think. You’d rather be drowned in other women’s wine poured over your head than be on the receiving end of his disregard again, the script already constructed in your mind before you’d found you had the nerve to sleep with him.

"You can be honest with me,” you say. “Tell me it's been fun but you're not interested in a relationship.”

“What?” Doyoung is just as confused as when you’d told him you loved him, as honest as you’ve been in both sentiments.

“Your family will never approve of me. I’m just another fling you happened to take a more lasting interest in. It’s better this way. Cut me off, forget about me and move on.”

It's his turn to balk. You expect his pre-programmed response. Saint Kim's gospel for turning down the interested but uninteresting party: deflect, dissuade, detach.

“No,” he says, face draining of color.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I can handle it. Really. We can still be friends.”

“No,” he repeats, more forcefully.

“What do you mean, no?” you ask. “Isn’t that how this always ends?”

“You stupid girl,” he says, grabbing your face in his hands so you can’t escape, making you look into his warm gaze.

"Don’t you get it? This was always about feelings.”

When his lips crush against yours you don't have to speak to respond, catching his head so you’re not suffocated by the raw emotion you can feel in every movement. You return each kiss until the breath is out of your lungs, until you're drowning in his scent as he forces you back onto the desk.

You’re impatient to feel him, everywhere, aware you’re ripping buttons as you open his shirt to gain access to his smooth chest, trailing kisses as far down as you can go, still unable to escape his tongue sliding over yours.

“I wasn’t going to do this here, like this, but fuck it,” he says once he’s free, fumbling with his belt as he holds you to pepper your face and neck in a steady reminder of his affection. “I need you.”

“I need you, too,” you echo wholeheartedly, helping free him out of his clothing, pulling his length to where you’re still slick with oils and cum and ready for him. God, you think you’ve never been more ready to break around him, to show him what he’s brought out of you with this game.

“Please don’t make me wait anymore,” you whisper.

You watch his face, breath held and heart stuttering as he sinks into you slowly, both of you gasping at the way your heat resists each measure of his continuous thrust. It feels like he’s barely in you when he stops, making you moan in dismay.

“Doie, please,” you say, trying and failing to wrap your legs around his slender hips to capture him deeper. You’re half out of your mind with that burning weight inside you remaining still.

“Say it,” he says, taking off your shirt to have access to your skin. He pulls down your bra, nipples tugged between his fingers as he assaults your neck with his tongue and teeth.

“It’s special,” you choke out. “Thank you, please–”

“Say it,” he corrects, twitching inside you but not moving an inch more. He curls down to nip at your breast above the lace, sucking a mark into the softest part. “Without the ‘I think’.”

“No,” you resist, realizing what he’s asking too late. Your nails sink into his half-bared shoulder, head rolling against his. “You don’t get to torture me for that.”

“Don’t chicken out on me now.” Doyoung laughs against your cheek, hand splaying around your hip to still your squirming. “I can do this as long as it takes.”

He thrusts, just a little more, making you cry out in desperation as the contents of the desk tinkle behind you.

“Fuck,” you breathe. “You think I love you?”

“So, so close.” He pulls out, rocking into you again to feel the seize of your entire body when you anticipate just how far he’ll go before denying you. A little more, at least, and you can feel how much it’s taking for him, see the strain in his body as he holds back.

“You love me,” you tease, this time not a question, no you think. “Saint Kim loves me.”

He sheathes himself in you fully, gripping your nape to kiss you as you clench involuntarily around him, protests in the back of your throat muffled by his tongue sliding across yours. He tugs at your bottom lip when he breaks free, fully smiling now like he isn’t buried completely in your cunt just warming himself instead of chasing his own bliss.

“What did you call me?” he asks, leaning over you to retrieve something.

You take advantage of his distraction to snake a hand between you, slipping beneath your skirt before it’s grabbed, tight, and brought up to his lips.

“Don’t cheat,” he says, wrapping your fingers around the cap of a bottle.

“You never heard anyone call you that?” you murmur, opening it.

You smell spring flowers and delicate citrus before it’s taken away, set aside when you nibble and suck at his sensitive ear to make him twitch, hands drifting across his ticklish belly down to his hipbones. He reads your intent again, stopping whatever silly task he’s doing beside you to lift your wrists to his shoulders.

“The name is a little ironic, isn’t it?” you say, squeezing him experimentally with your thighs as you stroke his nape with your nails. You flex other muscles too–earning the grunt he makes as he feels you squeeze around his girth.

He angles your head, pressing something wet and soft to where your pulse flutters in your neck. You’re immediately permeated with a light, airy, sweetness, the different scents revealed like a melody that ends in that richer, warmer scent from earlier.

“Is that my perfume?” you ask.

“An anointment,” he says, blowing across your skin to dry it and sending a shiver down your spine to where your bodies are locked together, that fullness and muted pleasure of him radiating down to your toes.

“I do seem to have a demon inside of me,” you sigh into his neck as you rest your head against his shoulder. “Do they do that in exorcisms?”

“Blessings,” he corrects, adjusting with another grunt. “We’ll find out if it worked in about an hour.”

“An hour?” you grumble. “You think you can keep torturing me that long?”

“I think I gave you the key to your own cage,” he says, checking his watch. “About five minutes ago. Does it feel like longer?”

You mumble something into his rumpled collar, making him laugh beneath you. Even just that tiny movement has you involuntarily gripping him, abdomen clenched.

“What’s that?”

“I’llsayitifyoumakemecome,” you repeat, embarrassed enough to hide your face in the crook of his neck again.

“You think this is a negotiation, Y/N?” Doyoung’s hands are back on your breasts, thumbing the areola in slow circles that are very much a reminder of his touch earlier on your throbbing clit. You whimper, trying to stay still so he doesn’t figure out that if he continues to do that you might have a chance–

“You trying to make me come squeezing me like that?” he asks, breath ragged. “That seems like a quick way to end this.”

“You . . . you could just fuck me,” you wheeze, feeling the way he teases your pebbled, hard nipple with lighter brushes, his mouth quirked where it’s pressed to your forehead.

“What if I want to make love to you, instead?” he asks. He inhales sharply at your body’s response.

“Fuck, you liked me saying that, didn’t you?”

You nod, unable to speak, holding onto him in desperation as the combination of his words and soft strokes make you melt into the pleasure of every small motion of him inside you. You realize he’s unconsciously pushing into you, too, unable to keep his hips from pressing into yours.

Overstimulation is making you hyperaware of the scratch of his unzipped jeans against your burning thighs, the random brush of his open belt against your belly. Time seems to disappear as he holds you quietly, letting you soak up the fragrant, radiating warm reality of him.

“I can wait all night for it,” he threatens, even just his lower register making you quiver a little around him. “Count every time you twitch and moan on me until you break.”

You’d felt him flag a little while he worked but now he’s fuller inside you, stretching you wide as he twitches to life. It’s even hotter than all of this build-up, you think, knowing he can act a menace but that the idea of you surrendering to him is what’s really getting him off.

Of course, you think, mentally steeling yourself like you’re preparing for war. In a way this is something like it, up against as formidable a foe as he is.

“Doie,” you whisper, threading your hands in his hair as you nuzzle for his lips, kissing him softly and intimately, like it’s your first time. “When did you know?”

“What?” He goes a little rigid against you, unable to hide his rapid heartbeat with how close you’re pressed to him. You blink up at him, expectantly.

“When did you first know you loved me? Really?”

He smiles, shyly, but you see the hint of anxiety on his features beneath his arousal. There it is, you think, having to hide your own satisfaction.

“Is this a trick question?” he asks, warily, eyelashes half-lowered.

“Not if I know the answer,” you say, smoothing his kiss-swollen lips with a touch. “I don’t think it’s in that book, either.”

“Really?” He’s intrigued, a tentative rock of his hips against you making you dizzy. “Tell me.”

You shake your head, just as playful.

“I’ll tell you later,” you say. “After.”

He sighs explosively, nose wrinkling. “You don’t know.”

“Want to bet?” you ask. It’s always a little thrilling seeing Doyoung presented with an opportunity he can’t resist. He fumbles for the notebook beside you, almost slipping out of you when he has to reach even farther for a pen.

“Write it down,” he says, smug as a cat who’s caught something small and easily toyed with.

“Only if you do, too,” you say.

His answer is a pained sound of agreement, adjusting himself against the desk.

“No peeking,” you say, flipping to a page in the back.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing the book before the nib of the nice pen touches the creamy paper. “What are the terms?”

You ponder for a moment, feeling a grin slide onto your lips. “Doesn’t our perfume need a name? Whoever is right, gets to name it.”

You can practically taste his delight as he leans in to kiss you, forcing you to pull your page closer to you. You make him wait, filling the blank space as best you can with detail as he fidgets between your legs, sending small shocks of pleasure through you both.

“Thank you,” he says in earnest once you’ve handed him it open to a new leaf, his hand and the notebook shaking a little as he tries to write mid-air, finally resting it awkwardly atop your head in order to scrawl out his own answer.

“My eyes are closed, Kim Doyoung.”

“You’re a cheat,” he says, shushing you with an added thrust of his hips.

You settle back on your elbows, already enjoying your victory as you feel the tiny pressure of his handwriting, hear the scratches of his sketch. You're more emboldened than ever when the leather binding snaps shut.

“Now tell me,” you say, looking up at him coyly.

“Can’t I just show you–”

You snatch the book from him, turning to your entry. Then, to his horror, you rip your page free and fold it shut, tucking it into the pocket of his open shirt.

“Tomorrow morning,” you say. “You had 24 hours, right? I’ll give you my answer tomorrow morning.”

Doyoung looks as if he’s tasted something sour. “You won’t tell me.”

“I’ll tell you that you won,” you say, looking down at his page. You trace the fresh ink with care, admiring his tight script and explanation. “February to April? How could I have guessed an entire season?”

“Did you at least guess the year?” he asks, looking a little better for your affirmation of his win.

You nod, finally feeling the discomfort of your position and resting your head against his warm chest. There’s nothing awkward about being wrapped around him like this, the late hour and strange, still space making it easier to forget the world outside.

“Hard to forget,” you say. “I thought for sure I’d never see you again after that winter holiday.”

Another break with Johnny, of course–but this one had been your choice. You’d finally felt the crushing weight of two years of contempt from the people around him, the Suh family matriarch at the center of it all, doing everything in her power to crush not only you but the people you loved.

And then, when you’d needed him the most, Kim Doyoung had walked away from you, too.

“I didn’t think I’d see you, either,” he sighs. “It was the first time in a long time you weren’t with us. With me. And it was my fault for pushing you away when you were just trying to–”

“It’s in the past now,” you cut him short with a finger pressed to his lips.

The memory is painful, still–and you don’t want to sully this moment with it. You appreciate that even in his roundabout admission there’s a clear understanding for all you’d been through. You’d hoped he remembered that time from the past, when you’d first peered between the cracks in his carefully-manufactured facade.

Now you could be sure of what it meant to him. You feel like your own walls are crumbling, the light shining through.

“So you chose the period of time when we didn’t speak to one another, at all?” you muse. “Not just one day?”

“You know what they say. Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he says. “You were on my mind every minute and every hour of those three and a half months.”

He pauses, sigh warm against your brow. “I couldn’t tell you when I knew, for sure. I certainly couldn’t admit it, then, even to myself. But sometime then, I realized I cared more about you than a friend.”

You’d never doubted he was capable of it, never doubted it might be true. But hearing him admit it, now you know why he wants to hear it from you, too.

“Say it,” you say.

He finally looks at you again, tired but alight with amusement.

“You first,” he says.

“Who knew three simple words would be so difficult for Saint Kim?” you tease him.

“Alright. Come here,” he motions, slipping out of you with a shared groan. He pulls you to a couch under the shuttered window, settling down and forcing you to straddle him. In this position he can’t stop you from immediately taking all of him, his eyelids fluttering when you bottom out.

“You feel like heaven,” he murmurs.

“You’re not going to last,” you laugh, delighted by the way his nose scrunches when you clench around him.

“Says the girl who’s sucking me in like you never want me to leave.” He grabs on to your hips to roll them against his own, fingers tightening when you wriggle against him. “You’re gonna say it first even if I have to fuck it out of you.”

“Whoever comes first, then?” you offer.

“I can live with that,” he sighs, head resting back on the couch.

You rock on your knees slowly, satisfaction warming you throughout as you force him all the way inside you. You let him hear how he makes you feel, pleading sounds and whispers every time he hits that place in your upper walls, curved inside of you perfectly. It doesn’t matter if you're in control you can’t help but hunt down that lovely rush of pleasure in your belly, twining your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Good girl,” Doyoung praises, watching you in awe through half-lidded eyes. “You’re so beautiful. I always wanted to know what it would look like when you lost yourself with me.”

His words make you shiver, brushing his lips until he holds you against his mouth to show you how he likes it, less exploratory and more confident. It’s maddening how good he is at this, making you feel every single sweep of his tongue across yours, hand on your neck keeping you from escaping.

“Don’t you want to–” you protest as he helps you to lay flat on your back across the length of the wide loveseat, settling between your thighs.

“Oh god, Doie,” you whimper when he takes over, finally, finally, beginning to fuck you. It’s just as slow but at least he penetrates you fully before pulling out almost all the way, shoulders quaking as he holds himself up.

“Promise me you'll let me dote on you for the rest of your life,” he says, not waiting for your response before driving into you again. His movements are barely controlled, grunts escaping the back of his throat when his hips snap into yours again.

“I promise,” you hold onto him, back arching off the cushion to meet him, blissed out in the relief of each, careful stroke against your fluttering walls. That crescendo is happening whether you want it to or not, every overworked knot of muscle threatening to snap loose.

“Promise me that no matter who you fuck you’ll always let me treat you right,” he says, voice breaking. “You’ll let me show you how I feel even when I can’t say it.”

“Yes, Doie. Yes.” You pull down on his shoulders, trying to move for you both, kissing his jaw and throat.

“Stop fighting me and take it,” he says, moving more easily with the thick coat of your cum, establishing a gentle rhythm.

His voice has always made it hard for you to pay attention to anything else but he abuses that power now, murmuring guidance into your neck that has you tightening around him as he fucks you deep and slow.

“That’s my girl,” he praises. “You’re taking me so well. Take all of me.”

You feel shivers up and down your body, nipples hardening tight as they brush against his chest, his hair tickling your forehead as he blindly kisses and licks at your mouth and chin.

You’d thought he’d be concentrating on something else in his head to keep from losing himself but instead it’s you who's floating, breath captured in your lungs when he adjusts on top of you to pin your hips down, pressing your leg wide to bury himself to the hilt.

“You feel so perfect. I could really do this all night, you know,” he smirks down at you from where he’s supported on his elbow. “Is that what you want?”

“No, fuck, please,” you whine. There’s no thoughts in your head besides just how much you want that ache inside of your cunt to melt into real pleasure.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, feeling how you begin to pulse around him as he swirls his hips up into that most sensitive part of you, his flat belly grinding into your clit. You gasp, leg locking around his, helping him work you apart.

“No no no,” you beg, face hot. “Just . . . just kiss me through it, please.”

Doyoung’s smile grows wider. “Say what you already told me.”

You twist your head against the cushion, earning his hand on your jaw as he makes you look at him while you break, kissing you between panting breaths. His confidence is written in the cocksure grin remaining on his mouth, more cruel when he bites at your bottom lip, hard, before licking the pain away.

“Say it,” he breathes, slowing down on purpose.

“I . . . ah,” you cry out, “I love . . . please don’t stop.”

“What’s that?” he asks, pace punishingly slow. Your legs lose feeling, vibrations starting in the back of your thighs and tremoring down to your feet.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” you repeat, nearly tipping off the edge, “I’m coming, I’m finally–”

He slows down right as you hit that crest, making you cry out in frustration.

“Doie, I’ll kill you–”

“Say it,” he says into your lips, pulling out–too far–

“Iloveyou,” you exhale, seizing around him in time to your wildly beating heart.

“Louder.” He slams into you again, merciless.

“I love you, you stupid bastard,” you say, hanging on to his shoulders. “I love you!”

“Good enough,” he says, drilling into you until he can feel you break, orgasm sustained through the painful pressure of him losing himself in your throbbing heat, finding your mouth again, finally, to silence the repeated mantra on your tongue.

You kiss him fiercely, unloading everything words aren’t enough for, legs tied around his waist to keep him locked inside you until he’s fighting back, fucking you so hard the sound of it fills the quiet room.

“I love you,” you repeat a final time for him, just to watch the way it makes him break, jaw slackening when he loses control, finally.

He stutters into his own orgasm, teeth scraping against your locked lips, forehead pressed into yours as he empties inside you for what feels like forever, finally collapsing on top of you with a whimper when his arms give out and he’s as limp as his cock inside you.

You scrape your nails across his scalp, soothing him. You don’t mind his weight, or the way you’re still pressed together with sweat and your combined spend.

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he rasps, eyes dazed as he looks up at you.

“No,” you say, shaking your head tightly. “Not for me, at least.”

“You’re not mad?”

You know he means his inability to say the magic words but you crack a smile, just as pleased with yourself.

“About the bet?” you ask. “No.”

Oh, it’s delicious seeing realization dawn on his face, little glimmers of surprise and horror bubbling up from his afterglow.

“Fuck,” he says. You’re grateful he doesn’t deny it, rolling to the side in defeat.

“Who told you? ‘Woo?”

You laugh softly, rolling over to pin him down with your leg, trapping him against the back of the couch.

“You did, right now,” you say, relishing having him where you want him. “I had a hunch. And I know you, you’d never beg for someone to say something during sex–”

“I didn’t beg,” he corrects, grimacing.

“What was it? The first one to get me to say it? Bonus points if it’s on your cock?”

“Ah, well,” he says, perking up despite the fist pressed to his forehead in embarrassment. “Then you don’t know.”

“I’ll find out soon enough, Jaehyun wouldn’t–”

“You’re really not mad?” he asks, painfully reticent as you pull his hand away from his face and twine your fingers together.

“Not if it means I can use it as leverage,” you say, kissing his knuckles.

That doesn’t seem to surprise him, at all.

“Good girl,” he says. “What do you want?”

A few years ago, give or take

You’re a little too happy, an awful fact considering how much he'd missed seeing you this way.

Lately you’ve been sleepwalking through your life, all those tiny fractures and bruises finally having the time to mend–but healing is a painful process in itself. Doyoung had returned from his family’s formal Chuseok gathering in Singapore, eager to check in on you after receiving sparing responses from you via text.

You didn’t have a friend he could check in with instead any longer–not after that one girl had fled the country, the other ghosting you after their father was mysteriously laid off from a company he well knew did business with Suh International.

He’s worried about you long before that, terrified that one last straw would break you even if by all indications you were strong enough to take it. After you’d had Johnny arrested and solicited a no-contact order you’d cut your ex off completely, moving to a tiny apartment far from where you’d grown up, changing your number.

Only Jungwoo knew about it, and it was he who’d reluctantly offered your whereabouts to him after a few glasses of whiskey in their usual club.

“She asked me to keep her info on lockdown. Got that hacker kid, what’s his name–Haechan? Wiped her socials off the map, so he can’t find her. He did good but you know Suh.”

Doyoung nods. They hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, probably because the idiot was combing through every civic office and apartment building in the city. Hell, he’d probably driven around until he found her by sight alone, knowing that animal wouldn’t rest until he knew her whereabouts, as stubborn about chasing her down as he was about refusing the F4’s help.

“His mother called me to ask if the place he bought in cash was for her,” Doyoung says, knocking back his drink as he receives a text, heart sinking that it's not you. “Did you help him buy it for her?”

Jungwoo sighs. “No. I just got her rent halved with some coercion, you know? But then he goes and buys a unit in the same building with whatever stash he thought the Old Tiger didn’t know about.”

The Devil Kim leans back, long legs akimbo as he gestures towards the server for a refill. “He’s waiting for her to go back to Chicago before he moves in. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I did not,” Doyoung affirms, turning away from the group of women at the bar sending looks towards their private table. “Let’s plan for when Madam Suh leaves. I can have her pull him into the London offices, considering he’s failing his courses.”

“Stone cold,” Jungwoo says, smirking. “Glad I’m not on your shit list.”

“Just don’t fuck with her,” Doyoung says. “Or fuck her.”

Jungwoo laughs into his glass. “Even I’m not that stupid.”

He’d thought he wasn’t, either.

Not until you’d called a few days later, your speech a little slurred. He couldn’t have told you if what he was doing was important even if he was in a meeting, showing up to find you picking at a bowl of bar snacks in what he thought might be one of the nicer bars in your shitty part of town. Not as shitty as your old neighborhood, but it wasn’t a competition.

“Saint Kim,” you’d heralded him, raising an empty glass still smelling of watermelon and hibiscus.

“You shouldn’t be drinking alone, here,” he’d said.

You were dressed in one of your few nice outfits, a little on the revealing side for his tastes, but those had been Johnny’s you’d conformed to–animal print and thin straps, tastefully tasteless.

“I wasn’t,” you say, hiccuping. “Alone.”

For the first time in a long time fear spikes his blood pressure into overgear. Were you drugged? Was he going to have to fend off another predator who'd found you vulnerable?

You deserved the chance to move on but there was a real threat in what would happen to anyone who approached you without their permission. Johnny’s, yes, always, but the F4 had also agreed to look out for you well before your last incident at a club.

“Who?”

“She left,” you say. He feels instant relief, reaching out to adjust the thin coverup slipping off your bare shoulder.

“You make a new friend?”

You shake your head. “She’s nice. Met her in one of the ikebana classes work is paying for. Thought we were hitting it off but I must have said something dumb because she ran out of here, fast.”

You look up at him cautiously, too inebriated to realize he can recognize a set-up before it begins.

“You didn’t just talk about your ex, did you?” he asks, settling beside you at the bar. He orders something less ridiculous than whatever you'd been drinking, while you scroll through an Instagram feed, finger trembling over the screen.

You look up at him, color-stained lips curving in an easy smile. “You want to see what we’re working on?”

Doyoung finds himself looking through a grid that is immediately obvious is not yours. His mouth goes dry, seeing rows of beautifully-staged floral centerpieces, the backgrounds as familiar as the back of his hand. You don’t seem to notice, going to the user’s story and tapping in vain to find the picture she’d posted.

“She deleted it already. Huh. Well, she texted me the picture–”

“Stop.” Doyoung places his hand over yours, his palm damp from the immediate flood of adrenaline.

“So you do know Mona,” you say. You look up at him, expectantly, eyes glassy with the brand of hopefulness and naked curiosity he’s seen you charm everyone else around you with before.

“She’s the one, isn’t she?”

Doyoung pulls cash from his pocket, not caring how much he puts down except that he’s sure it’s enough to cover the amount he’d like to drown himself in right now. Enough to go blind and burn out the phantom of that face he’d put behind him years ago.

“Put your coat on,” he says. “I’m driving you home.”

“But I’m not–”

“Now,” Doyoung says, grabbing your wrist. He’s barely ever touched you in the years that you’ve been friends, and it sickens him when he feels you freeze in fear and confusion, that trauma response buried so deeply it's in your bones.

He wants to be kind, he wants to be patient with you. He just doesn’t have it in him to be anything to you right now.

“What’s wrong, Do–?”

“We’re leaving,” he says, dragging you out into the bitter cold evening, the streets slick with sleet, your heels catching on the pavement as you stumble in his wake.

“Stop,” you yell at his back, trying to yank your arm free from where he’s bruising your skin with whitened knuckles. “You’re hurting me–”

“You’ll live,” he says, pulling you to where he’s parked his car, the engine roaring to life the moment you manage to close your door. He can barely look at you, realizing too late that your crestfallen expression is making him more upset than the lightning strike of seeing her name again.

“You didn’t ask my address,” you say, quietly, met with his silence as he drives much more dangerously than the weather permits. He's forced to speak with you once he's slammed the brakes at an intersection, red light shading you through the windshield.

“Tell me one thing,” he says. “Did you try to set us up by having me come there?”

You’re petulantly silent now, an answer in itself.

“Answer me,” he orders, hands gripping the wheel.

“I thought you’d want to–”

“Do you think we have the kind of relationship where you can just do whatever you want and get away with it?” Doyoung’s voice is calm but he sees you flinch at his words and tone, your shoulders moving under your jacket as you begin to quietly cry.

It drives him deeper into anger, hitting the gas with a roar of the engine the instant the light turns green.

“You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself for this one, Y/N,” he says, already regretting every word tumbling out of his mouth. “You fucked up.”

“I just thought you could both have some closure after that–”

The car jerks as he brakes in the side lane of the service road, cars roaring past them honking their horns. Your sobs are barely audible over the idling engine and the blink of the hazards he turns on while he tries to find calm, your face turned away from him.

“You thought that interfering in other people’s personal lives would make you feel better,” he says. “No wonder you don’t have any real friends.”

Out of the corner of his eye he can see your full body shakes still, can feel as that armor encasement you’d put together piece-by-piece over years of dealing with loveless reality falls back into place. And, years later–no, even hours later–he’ll remember how at the time he was stupid enough to think it was the right thing to say.

You needed a reality check, he’d thought. A reminder that all the wishes and hopes in the world wouldn’t change the bleak architecture of it, uncaring by design and much easier to navigate without them. That moving on was the only path to this idiot’s dream of closure, something you knew nothing about for how often you’d let them pull you back into their world, blinded by sunk-cost and loneliness.

All the things he wished he believed for himself, but without the benefit of your optimism.

“Fuck you, Kim Doyoung,” you say, opening the car door and slamming it shut without so much as a glance behind you. He’d waited to make sure you reached the nearest bus stop before driving off, calling Jungwoo to let him know you were here–crying in the cold.

He'd seen you in passing.

His best friend knew a lie when he’d heard it, most especially from him.

He wouldn't hear from you again until spring.

Kim Doyoung can’t sleep.

He’s not allowed to.

He can’t move either, arm going numb beneath your curled body, your breathing finally easing for the dozenth time since his trial began. You have horrible sleep habits–kicking off the covers, stealing the pillows–but tonight you’ve passed out with that same bone-deep tiredness he’d felt earlier, face beatific in the slivers of light piercing through the slatted shades.

It’s close to dawn, he thinks, the cacophony of insects and birds outside transitioning from a quiet chorus to a full orchestral suite. Soon it will be too loud to sleep deeply.

“Y/N?” he whispers, tentatively, not daring to move.

You don’t respond, relief rushing through him. It’s not that he’s desperate to join you in slumber but that he’s waited for you to finally surrender to REM. He needed you down.

And you needed it, too.

He’d negotiated with Jaehyun when you’d been in the shower, earlier, sacrificing precious moments of shared time exploring your skin and the new taste of you under the water to supplicate himself to his best friend and worst enemy in this moment.

“It’s a charter,” Jaehyun said, blinking sleep from his eyes but awake enough to be angry. “You’re not finding another one short term.”

“I emailed you the tickets. Cattle car but first class, at least,” he says. “Jungwoo agreed to give you his day, he doesn’t want to take her out until after dark, anyway. You can sleep in tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Jaehyun had slammed the door shut in his face, but he hadn’t missed the budding smile on his friend’s face. At least one person was rooting for him.

That’s how he’d earned another morning with you. As always, making up for lost time.

You’re half out of the covers, one leg sprawled over the duvet as you sleep. You’d put on one of his softer button-downs, inhaling the smell of it after he tried to steal it back.

“Please let me wear you,” you said. “I want to dream about you.”

Being around you like this is more comfortable than he imagined, as if you’re being slotted into a position he didn’t even know there was an existing space for. He’s woken up to women in his bed but you’re the first who’s ever asked him for this, particular experience.

“I used to have this fantasy, you know, whenever we crashed at your apartment.” He’d watched you go sheepish recalling, dates omitted for a reason. “Sometimes I’d lie there and touch myself thinking about you crawling into that guest bed–maybe a little drunk or you’d forget which room. Or maybe, you just wanted me to think that. I’d be awake but I’d pretend to be asleep while you . . . used me.”

He experiments by tracing his fingertips up your bare leg, the peek of your lace underwear beneath the hem of his shirt maddening for how it curves into the crest of your ass, presented for him. A treat dangled before him, the command to partake only that you wanted him to make it slow–you wanted to wake to it.

He sucks a breath in, erection in his sweatpants hard against the band already from just watching his sleeping beauty. He finds every mark on your leg, every fine hair, thanking Heaven above you aren’t overly sensitive or ticklish like he is when his hand slips beneath his shirt to your belly.

He slots himself against you, carefully, as if adjusting in his sleep. He has to wait for your breathing to even out again, slipping his free hand up to your breasts.

“Used you? Did you not get off in this scenario?”

“I mean, yes. But it’s mostly about you. You wouldn’t say anything at all, you’d just fuck me full of your cum and then you’d leave me leaking it on your sheets and go back to your room. Or sometimes I’d crawl in your bed, if you were alone, and you’d cover my mouth so the others couldn’t hear it. And the next day it would be like nothing happened, you wouldn’t even bother to ask how I’d slept.”

He loved how much of a slut you were, when you felt comfortable enough to share that side with someone. Johnny had certainly never appreciated the subtleties of your nature–too blinded by adoration to even consider degrading you on purpose.

No, Doyoung had known for awhile you pushed the boundaries with him to see if he’d break.

Your nipples harden even though he’s barely handling them, discovering what shape your breasts make in repose as he tries desperately not to rut into the swell of your ass. Warming himself in you earlier had been one of the hardest challenges he’d faced but it had been worth it to learn you inside and out, to know how to make you grip his cock with that delicious little cunt of yours with just a kiss or a word that pleased you.

You don’t wake but he knows he’s gotten through to that little lizard brain of yours when your legs rub together unconsciously, pushing back into him so his cock is settled between your buttocks. The friction from the lace is like the proverbial pea under a mattress–rubbing against his cock through the layers, catching on the veins and scraping the underside of his cockhead.

It’s already a nice ache, one he ignores as he adjusts to better continue plucking and teasing at your body beneath your shirt, until you’re used to his touch enough to truly fall back under, once more.

You're so vulnerable, completely at his mercy as he brings his hand down to test the patch of moisture growing in the fabric, that lace sticky with your dreams of him.

Use you, he thinks. You have no idea what he wants.

Doyoung can play with the fantasy of you crawling into your boyfriend’s best friend’s bed while he’s passed out in the other room, determined to be punished for waking a sleeping monster . . . but it’s not what he's fantasizing about now.

He takes time in stroking you, a single finger digging in between your lips through the fabric, listening intently for your breathing to change. You sigh, one of those full exhales one does in their deep sleep, but you arc back a little, into his touch, leg falling forward crooked so you’re a little more spread.

Doyoung wishes he could move down there and use his nose to push you apart instead of his hand but that’s not your fantasy–not this time. You didn’t want him to spoil you anymore, completely underestimating his love for it. True, he didn’t often eat other girls out, too personal or just too much of a chore to figure out what they liked, but you weren’t ever going to be with him and not come from that first.

Just the thought of tying you up so he can spend hours fucking you on his tongue is making his cock pulse, too hard to be ignored. He quietly pulls down the drawstring of his sleepwear, freeing himself so he can replace his finger with the much wider tip of his cock, biting back a groan as he rubs into that damp, soft lace he’d known would suit you the moment he’d touched it in the display box brought to his private buying room.

You'd never know he’d already fucked himself with it before ever giving it to you, that errant fantasy of touching you finally realized as you whimper a little in your sleep at the soft push of him between your legs. He finds where your clit is getting just as swollen as the rest of you, bouncing against warmth and the promise of unspooling that need with his help, again.

Just his precious little cocksleeve, spoiled and worshiped, showing your gratitude by begging for it even when you’re unconscious. He tests the waters of the scenario by slowly pulling the seat of your underwear to the side, easing in between the fabric and your folds.

You twitch against him, sheets rustling. He holds still, cock jumping and balls tightening with a little anxiety.

He only has this one chance.

Outside in the dark and quiet of the house sleeps the man everyone knows you’re really with, the one who doesn’t have to fight for an I love you to pass your lips. You’d never understood what it felt like watching you climb into Jaehyun’s lap whenever the whim took you, pretending you didn’t know what it did to him or the other two of them watching you.

Your breathing is shallow and your hand flexes a bit, against the pillow, but that’s it. Within a minute he’s grown more confident that you’re still asleep.

He reaches over you, pressing the pads of two fingers against the front of your underwear while he slips a little deeper between your legs, eyes almost rolling back in his head at the contrast between the satiny slide of you and the rougher cling of your panties. It’s a relief as he loses himself to it, rutting from the back while he applies constant pressure to your bud.

“Mmm.” You make a soft noise, but he doesn’t pull free, choosing instead to keep a hypnotizingly steady pace fucking against you. Your hips twitch against him, seeking out more contact, but he doesn’t rush–pressing his head against the back of yours and melding with you in the softness of the pillows and sheets.

You’re so wet you’re soaking his pants, everything he collects tickling down to his balls pressed into your ass. He’s going to stuff your mouth with his fingers, when you finally open it, make you gag on them while he fills you full from behind.

You moan now, voice syrupy with sleep. He doesn’t care if you’re still down, not with you gently pushing back, trying to get release.

Not yet, you little harlot, he thinks, hips going still again. He’s burning at the wait, your cunt continuing to glide against him as you act out whatever is going on in your dreams, the movement making him insane for how closely it adheres to his desire to have taken you back when you were innocent, his little virgin weed learning what her body wanted, seeking it out in his bed.

“Treat me like one of the girls you don’t really like. Use me.”

Such an unending fantasy of yours that he never wanted you, almost sweet for how dumb you are–or just willfully ignorant. He’s always liked the second one better–your little game played out that you were one of them. Dressed in that school uniform, kicking your skinned knees, sucking on a piece of candy while four college-age idiots hid their bathing-suited boners under their robes, fighting or fucking around in front of you so you could keep up that precious little illusion of immunity.

“Johnny,” you murmur in your sleep.

It should make his blood run cold but as with all twisted-up and tangled desires it only makes him feel ignited, pulse pounding in his head. You’re still asleep and thinking of someone else, someone not even in this house, the guilt of it passing over him faster than a cloud on a breezy day.

He rocks back into you, this time pulling out enough that he can find your soft hole, already tight again–the only part of your body not relaxed as he forces his way past the flutter of your opening, cockhead sensitive enough to sense the more textured g-spot where he knows you’ll come fast and easy if he fucks into it.

“Shh,” he says, finally trailing his mouth against your jaw, pushing into you softly. “Go back to sleep, baby.”

“Mmhmm,” you reply, nuzzling into the pillow, curling into him. He pushes a knee between your legs, folding you into the bed beneath him as he begins to fuck you, finally taking you for himself and himself alone.

You’re so warm inside, body adjusting to take him easily for how boneless you are, kitten-like mewls muffled by the pillow. It turns him on hearing the edge of pain there, the way you struggle when he pulls your underwear up so tight it sticks between your folds, clit rubbing against it the way he’d stroked himself to completion with it tied tight around his cock.

“Stay quiet or I’ll stuff your mouth full instead,” he whispers against your shoulder, feeling as always a little stupid but losing that internal cringe when you choke on a moan.

“Is that what my little slut was dreaming about? Gagging to tears on another man’s cock?”

He feels you tense at a bit at the suggestion, letting him use you in spite of the rougher handling.

“That’s right. You said another man’s name in your sleep. Do you think that's acceptable?”

You shake your head, whimpering.

“Such a whore you can't keep track of who's dick is inside of you. Tell me, who's fucking you right now?”

“Doie,” you say, music to his ears. He'd always hated the nickname until you started using it. You were the only one–you were always the only one who made his chest burn with unsated desire when you said his name.

“Who owns this tight little pussy?”

“You do,” you gasp out.

“Are you going to forget me? Maybe I need to fuck you so hard you only think of me when you spread your legs for another man.”

Doyoung feels electric at how easily you begin to crumble with just a few words, squeezing his dick so tight when he says something you like, even more when he makes it hurt.

“Sleepy baby going to let me stuff every one of your holes until I’ve had enough? Use you like my own little doll?”

You nod, no longer capable of speaking except in a plaintive moan when he leaves you to shuck off his pants and pull down your ruined panties, pillow pulled beneath your belly to force your ass up. In this position he can drill into you deeper, burying you into the mattress with each thrust.

“That’s what you get for crawling in here,” he says, fingers digging bruises into your hips to hold you down. “Keep your mouth shut and take it.”

The pleading, almost scared noises you're making have him hard and pulsing, two steps away from coming himself but in no hurry to. He pulls your hair to bring your head back, shoving his fingers in your mouth.

“You like that?” Your cunt can't hide it, sucking him in. “Get them wet for me.”

You drool over his knuckles, gagging as he fucks your mouth with them in an awkward rhythm to his merciless rutting. He spits into his hand when he's satisfied, fingers swirling around the tight rim of your ass so quickly it makes you buck.

“Don't scream,” he murmurs, giving you two fingers at once. You make a noise through the pillow you're biting, gripping him tight. He's gentler with this, slowing, letting you adjust to take him.

“This is my favorite, right here,” he groans. “Feeling my cock inside you with my fingers. I'd fuck this tight little ass again but I want to feel you come like this.”

He begins to stroke you harder, deeper, wet and sticky when his balls slap against your abused cunt. He keeps his fingers buried in you, scissoring you open as you take it.

“Come for me, Y/N, grip me good so I can fill that pretty mouth of yours.”

It's a beautiful feeling when you begin to throb, contractions in your ring of muscle letting him know when you hit your peak. He fights the tingling in his balls, the urge to come with you painful for how long he's been holding it back.

He talks you through it, instead.

“Such a good little hole,” he says. “You're coming so hard, baby, can feel it so well.”

You moan, loud, as you break, loosening almost immediately, flooding him with sweet, hot warmth. He makes sure the last of those tics is gone before pulling out.

“Roll over,” he says, straddling you with a hand on the headboard, delighted by the sight of your flushed face and starry eyes. You already know what to do, tongue lolling and uvula exposed as he guides himself into your mouth, soft tongue swirling around his tip.

God help him he's been thinking about this since yesterday, pushing deep enough to gag but not choke, fucking your mouth and the hot tightness of your throat when he hits it. It’s the sight more than anything that drives him to spill hot white ropes of cum into your mouth, pulling out to milk the last few splashes on your parted lips and delighting at the sight of you licking them with your spend-covered tongue.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, dropping down and kissing you, finally, tongues stroking each other until you finally pull free to breathe, blinking up sleepily at him.

“You do taste different,” you tease.

“I taste like you,” he says, pressing soft kisses all over your face. “My sweet, sweet girl.”

“Did you like that?” you murmur.

“I loved–” he pauses, watching the smile spread on your wet lips.

“I love you, you know,” he finishes. You reach around his neck, comforting him out of instinct, but he doesn’t need it.

“I love you,” he repeats, testing the words on his tongue now that they've flown out so easily, the tightness in his chest easing as you rise up to kiss him.

“It's beautiful to hear you say it,” you say. “But you're right, I know.”

“I think I even know the exact time and date,” you say, reaching between you into the pocket of your shirt to pull out that torn and folded art paper scrawled with your words and an amateurish sketch.

Tomorrow morning . . .

[Unknown number] [Tomorrow morning April 13th dawn is at 6:17] [I have something to show you. Meet me on the roof of the East Wind Hotel]

Doyoung looks at the text message again, hand hanging over the railing of a dance floor, conversation with the woman by his side forgotten. With the blur of a late night and a trip to a different hotel room, with a different woman, he'd almost missed it.

Probably one of the innumerable flings he's had, Jungwoo recruiting him to get every last lick of enjoyment out of Seoul before he enlisted. His friend snatches the phone from his hand.

“No business,” Jungwoo slurs, eyes bloodshot as he focuses on the text. “I thought you weren't working hospitality anymore.”

“It's not . . .” There's something nagging at him, like a bird pecking at his skull in time to the drone of the EM, the buzz of conversation. A sense of deja vu so strong he's forced to cycle on it.

“Pfft. I know you don't bring girls back to your kingdom,” Jungwoo says. “Stop working and party.”

Doyoung doesn't know why he feels compelled to see the cryptic message through, doesn't know why he races across town at 5 am, reeking of whiskey and another woman’s perfume, doing his best to sober up as the designated driver talks about the change in weather, the cherry blossoms in full bloom outside the window.

The morning commute is already surging and the destination central to the city so by the time he makes it he's out of breath from running two blocks away from a jam, head pounding.

“ . . . restricted for non-guests,” someone is saying, voice recognizable as an intern he knows from his leadership program, still stuck on night front desk duty.

“I just need a few minutes, please. I need to take a picture–” He'd recognize that voice in a hundred years if he hadn't heard it, not just a hundred days.

“What's going on here?”

You freeze, shoulders stiffening as you turn to face him. Not much has changed–a new haircut, same ratty old sneakers–but you look different. No longer a ghost, but just as untouchable for the skittish way you hold when he approaches, only the barest relief on your beautiful features.

You don't smile, don't even say hello.

You're scared of him, again, just that thought making him spiral.

“You came,” you say, exhaling. “We need to hurry. We need to get to the roof.”

Doyoung turns to the staff. “Is the roof access still shut down?”

“Stair access only, sir.”

Your eyes go wide at the interchange, something like embarrassment passing over your features as you begin to laugh.

“Of course this is your hotel,” you state, smacking yourself on the forehead. “Of course, why didn't I think to check that. God, I'm an idiot.”

“We didn’t change the name when we acquired the chain so it would be unlikely for you to have guessed that,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

“There's no time and it's easier just to show you. We need to get to the roof, now,” you say, grabbing his wrist and tugging on it towards the stairs.

“Y/N,” he says, holding you fixed and pointing at the elevator. “We can take it up as far as we need to.”

You're still laughing maniacally twenty floors up. “I was going to cry if I had to go up another flight of stairs.”

“Are you really taking pictures?” He asks, gesturing at your camera.

“No, but I started carrying it the first time someone called the police on me thinking I was going to jump,” you giggle, wiping away tears. He feels delirious from lack of sleep, so maybe you are, too, but it doesn't seem to be the case as you spring out the doors, forcing him to guide you when you're lost in the executive suite hallways.

“I managed to sneak in last time, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten this far. I'm glad you came just in time, I think they were going to kick me out.”

He's surprised at how easily things have snapped back into place between you, no mention of anything that's happened as you race up the stairwell to the roof access.

“Will you tell me–”

“Oh thank god,” you say once your through the heavy doors and collapsed on the green helipad, growing impatient when he props the door open out of habit. He's been up here many times, nothing remarkable about the space besides the legacy sign on top, view crowded by other buildings at varying levels.

“Stand here,” you say, pushing him into place, turning him by the arms. “Do you see it?”

“I don't even know what I'm looking for,” he says, beginning to grow annoyed.

“Look over there, at the People's Bank. Relax your eyes, it will only take a minute.”

He feels increasingly foolish but he does what you ask, cool morning breeze clearing his muddled head. The sky is washed in a pink and blue haze, the sun cresting the more mountainous region of the city behind you to bathe the city in solid gold.

“There,” you breathe, letting out a little sigh.

“What?” All he can see is a few birds passing over the vista of crowded advertisements and neon.

“Do you see the light?” you ask.

“There's tons of lights–” he begins, cut short by the blinding catch of the sun's reflection on one of the characters, then another. He spells it out slowly, guided by your hand holding his to each one.

The bank: Sa.

The next building over, also burning brighter with the touch of the sun: Rang.

Then an advertisement that has been up long enough most of the original message is lost. Hae.

“How did you find this?” he asks, knowing it would be impossible for him to have ever seen this without knowing the trick of the light.

“I didn't find it. Well I did–I had to search some buildings for it.”

Later he'll find out you climbed close to fifty flights of stairs in the last two months, had spent every waking moment not working or in school breaking into buildings before sunrise to find that exact spot, forever amused at the thought you hadn’t checked his family's flagship hotel first.

“You don't remember getting the same message from someone else?” you ask. “I was worried you wouldn't come, again.”

Again. Something tugs the memory up from the oubliette he'd locked it into, Mona teasing him about sleeping in and missing their appointment.

Mona.

His stomach falls, checking back behind him at the door as if that particular ghost will return to haunt him.

“She's not here. I wasn't trying to set you up,” you say, recognizing the dismay he can't hide. “Honestly. And I know whatever closure you find is yours and yours alone. You were right about that, too, I'm sorry.”

You twist your hands in front of you, suddenly overwhelmed with anxiety. “I did this for me. Because I wanted to know what she tried to tell you, even if she couldn't say it aloud.”

You don't look at him, can't in order to continue. Doyoung feels like a live wire, exposed, two months of painful loneliness and a lifetime's worth of avoidance of this fact all surging through him in this moment.

As much as he would prefer to leave he's not going to run like he did back then, when he'd ignored the hard parts to pretend like a friendship wasn't something more. Not with the stakes of losing this one.

“You once told me you were just friends, even if you couldn't be one anymore for her after you realized you loved her. How it broke you to be with someone you couldn't be with, who wanted something different.”

“Now you know. She didn't want to stay one, either,” you say. You look up at him nervously, regaining your confidence.

“I just wanted you to know that you were loved, Kim Doyoung. You still are.”

You turn away towards the door, pretending not to have seen the tears dripping down his face under his glasses. He ignores them, too, not knowing what to say or do to make sure you never leave him again.

The spot never mattered to him, the word and it's confession forgotten in time. What changed that day was having you in front of him after so long, the way you were a reflection of him so many years ago, fighting to be by the side of someone who didn't know how to love you back, the right way.

He'd promised himself than that even if he couldn't say it, he'd show you.

“Thank you for coming. I'm sorry for interfering with your life, but that’s what friends do.”

You'd almost made it to the stairs when he'd wrapped around you from behind, the first ever time he'd held you in an embrace, unsurprised to find you shaking like a leaf as he rested a wet cheek against your hair.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “Thank you.”

You relax a little, squeezing his hand. In that small gesture everything is reset, everything is okay again. They won't talk about this for the next few years, even when Jungwoo asks how you'd come back into their lives so suddenly and without any indication that things had changed.

But they had. Deeply.

“You can make it up to me by buying me breakfast,” you say, smiling up at him, wiping his cheek with your sleeve. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

“Did I win?” you ask.

Doyoung can only laugh, giddy, as you burrow into his side to smother him in kisses and teasing. You were put on this earth to challenge him, after all–always right there to match him in stubbornness and competition.

He presses his nose to your neck, inhaling the remnants of the scent you'd made together, one bottle for each, though you didn't have to know his formula was just a bit different.

“‘Tomorrow Morning’ has a nice ring to it, I suppose. It lingers well.”

“It was my answer, actually. I needed to see if I could break Saint Kim's vow of romantic abstinence before I made up my mind,” you say, smug as you move to get up. “Glad you were able to find out before your time was–”

You shriek as he pulls you down again, pinning you to the bed.

“I still have a few hours,” he says, voice dangerous. “I'd like to hear you say it again.”

#kim doyoung x reader #kim doyoung fic #kim doyoung smut #nct smut #doyoung x reader #doyoung smut #doyoung fic #nct x reader #nct fic #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct djj fic #nct dojaejung fic #nct djj smut #nct dojaejung smut #nct f4 au

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starillusion13 · 10 months ago

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BETTER THAN GOLD (TEASER)

Synopsis: Taeyong cleared his throat, “your dad will be fine but you. The princess needs to face the consequences.”

Every good thing comes with a price.

Pairing:Taeyong x Doyoung x Jaehyun x f!reader

Genre: Angst, Business, Romance, Smut

W/c: not yet

Warnings: mention of drinking and smoking, poor and rich, name calling. Rest warnings will be later in the original plot.

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated . Applause to the ones who come up to me to interact and they know how friendly I am. Okay enough!

you are different from them. There’s nothing common between you and them. They should hangout with each other but you are not allowed there. You are being told repeatedly that they are like the royals and you are just a commoner. But why though? Can’t you be friends with them? You didn’t mind the rich and poor before you met them but now you envy them. They get every single respect and recognition unlike you who is under shadows.

Shadows of them.

It all started when your father moved to this new city because he told you that this new place would be a better place for his job opportunities. You and your mother were really happy for this and it gave you hope that the future ahead of you would be a better one. Your family doesn’t need to be in poverty anymore and your days of struggle will be over. You will be living a happy life with no worry and regrets.

But you forgot one thing people said.

Everything comes with a price. If one problem gets solved then another problem rises up.

Your dad got invited to a grand hotel from his new workplace and you wondered how is he being treated like this. You are not complaining but getting surprised. You have never been to such grand and luxurious places before and deep down you are excited and wondering what it would be like to experience such things.

Will you be considered rich or you are still being treated as low class?

“Dad…”

He hummed while tightening his belt around his waist and looked at you through the mirror. He sent you a warm smile and you returned the gesture.

“Isn’t it suspicious that they are inviting you to this place when you are not even a part of the project team.”

“Y/n… I have told you that they are my friends and they are just helping me. Why are you so suspicious of them. We are having such a good life because of them and we should be grateful.” Your dad stated and turned towards you.

You nodded but still you are a bit hesitant to go to this place because of a foreign feeling lingering on your skin. You always trust your dad and if he was telling you to not think about it then you should not.

“I have never been to such places.” You whispered under your breath but your father chuckled on hearing you.

He walked towards you and sat beside you, “come on my child. Cheer up. If you have never been then atleast now you are able to attend such parties. Everything will be fine. Promise.”

Promise…

“Okay.” You and your dad smiled towards each each other.

“Hello Mr. Kang, Welcome to the party. I hope you have arrived safely and have you brought your daughter?” Mr. Kim greeted and your dad nudged you to come closer.

You were already anxious about the situation because of the grand spacious hall with richness and lavishness radiating everywhere even the dirts under the shoes and all the stares from people surrounding you.

You smiled and bowed towards thim, “Hello, myself Kang Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

Two other men also joined the scene and they had the same cheerful expression on their faces. Their welcoming gestures were calming your nervousness.

The other two also introduced themselves as Mr. Lee and Mr. Jung.

The three of your father’s friends had one attraction in common. Richness. The expensive suits and their great businessman aura was radiating off from them and your dad was looking like a mere corporate worker in front of them. But friends don’t let their money to come between their friendship and you should be grateful that wherever you are today, it’s because of them.

They studied in same school, they had same childhood then why your dad was the only one to suffer. It’s because he was greedy and he ran after money without working hard. But they chose patience and day by day they earned their position like this. Your dad has now learned the lesson. But are they same like before? They will still consider your dad to be that friend when they had nothing. Right?

“Hey dad…I was going upstairs and we won’t be eating here… And who is he?”

“Hey Kang, meet my son Lee Taeyong. And son this is my childhood friend I told you about, Mr. Kang.” Mr. Lee stood up from his chair from around the round table and came behind his son, patting his back he gestured him to bow.

His son rolled his eyes but still bowed to your dad in a bored expression. Your dad smiled but you didn’t. Your curious eyes watching his movements.

Rude.

His eyes locked with yours and you were expecting his bored eyes but the corner of his lips curled up. The sharp facial features were reflecting the expensive light and texture of the hall. His smooth skin and piercing eyes with the sharp jaw was a perfect combination for the grand name: LEE TAEYONG.

“Who is she?” He pointed towards you.

You were surprised that he even asked about you. You were trying to be out of spotlight but still he noticed you. Nothing. Just because you were sitting beside the man to whom his father introduced him.

“She is Mr. Kang’s daughter. Your new best friend.”

He chuckled and then laughed before glaring at you, “I don’t even know her and she is not even my friend and you are already referring her as my best friend? No way you are being serious, dad.”

“Don’t say like this. They are our guest. He is my bestfriend. Like the way you are friends with them, I hope you can be friends with her too.”

Like the way you are friends with them, you can be friends with her too.

Mr. Lee was serious and his son poked inside of the cheek with his tongue. He was annoyed but with whom.

Mr. Jung spoke up, “hey Taeyong, she is getting bored here among the dad talks so it’s better to take her upstairs with you all, I hope you all will get along well.”

Get along well with him? No way.

Mr. Kim nodded in agreement and Mr. Lee excitedly glanced at his son. His son was about to argue but his father’s stare made him shut.

Mr. Kim called you closer to Taeyong and with small steps, you stood beside him and gulped down the anger.

Did he despise you so much because you are not rich like him?

Taeyong extended his hand but as soon as you reached your hand to hold it, he smirked before pulling it to himself and said, “oh princess. I’m not here to escort you. Remember your place. You are just here because of my dad and I’m showing you the way to where we have to go.”

No one could hear him because others were already at the table and the music was atleast loud enough to make his low heavy voice inaudible to other people around him.

You just wanted to punch him but you curled your fingers into a fist by your side. He didn’t wait to see your glares but already started walking towards the fancy stairs. You were hesitating and thinking to go back to the table. But you didn’t want to give excuses to them and to have them a different impression of your dad.

Reaching a green door, he didn’t even knock but pushed open it. He looked back and gestured you with his head to enter the room. His tilted head and tongue licking the lips with the black hairs falling over his eyes was screaming at you, the most perfect man you have ever seen.

As soon as you stepped inside, the room had a strong smell of smoke and alcohol. You wanted to puke but just gulped the lump.

“What are you doing here?”

You got startled by the sudden voice and looked towards the side to see one man sitting on a sofa scrolling through the phone with a cigarette between his fingers. Everytime he was blowing in, the dimples were pointing out on his handsome face. Beside him, the one with wide eyes and a wine bottle in his hand staring at you. The one who questioned you.

“I have asked you something. No one is allowed here so get out.”

“I-i’m here—“

“Meet our little friend. Miss Kang Y/n.”

Friend? Huh!

The one who was smoking also looked up from his phone and all the stares from three of them was overwhelming you.

You started picking your nails and your hands got swatted away by the one who was smoking, he glared at you and threw the cigarette away. He was so tall that he was towering over you. You were feeling intimidated under their gaze but still you were doing your best to stray strong.

“Don’t do that. It can cause infections.”

You nodded, “it’s okay. It’s just—“

“Don’t think that I’m caring for you. We don’t want to get sick because of you.”he harshly replied before scanning you up and down.

“Oh come on. Be nice with her. Our dad told us to get along with her or this princess would complain about us to her dear daddy. Poor daddy. Can he buy a handkerchief to wipe off your tears?” Taeyong had a wide smirk across his face.

You had enough.

“Well it’s good that my dad is poor and not rich like yours. Maybe We live in poverty but atleast we have better manners and respect for others unlike you who are blinded by luxury. Actually you all can’t even differ between love and money. Emotional feelings and materialistic satisfaction are two different things. But you can’t see the real emotions because of material emotions. You all have an artificial soul built by the expenses and royalty.”

The one who was still drinking at the sofa laughed out loud. The smoker was staring down at you and Taeyong folding his hands beside you was now glaring at you.

“Do you have angel eyes to see all these? Don’t think that if you were rich then you wouldn’t have been like this. You can’t even know the air we breath because you can’t even be in our place ever. This No.1 company in this city was built by our dads, I’m the son of Mr. Kim. Everybody knows me here, Kim Doyoung and everybody looks up to me.”

The named Doyoung glared at you in the end before chugging down some alcohol.

“If you go downstairs and say my name Jung Jaehyun. Then you can see all the ladies will turn their heads to get a glimpse of me. Everyone try to marry off their daughter to me so that they can have my dad Mr. Jung as their business partner and their daughters would be happy to marry their dream guy.”

Jaehyun smirked in the end and leaned to the wall near him.

Finally Taeyong spoke up as if he was waiting for the chance, “Nothing can be more valuable than money, princess. Status can change everything. The facade of innocence that you have will be ripped off the day you will sit on the throne. But fake princesses don’t get the royalty. Only the gold ones get it.”

You scoffed and glared at each one of them.

“I would rather be a person with good morals, good reputation with others, instead of with rich material things which can be here today and gone tomorrow. Riches cannot buy you true love or true lasting happiness.”

“Riches can buy us everything, Y/n.”

Hearing your name from Taeyong shifted something inside you as if you were in a trance earlier. You licked your lips.

“If those riches can buy me true love and happiness then It’s better than gold.”you stared at them.

“Do you think you are better than gold?” Jaehyun asked you.

“Yes I am.”

You turned on your heels and bumped Taeyong’s side, you knew it would make him annoyed and it did.

Doyoung shouted, “where are you going?”

“You only said earlier that no one is allowed here then I should assume that I am un-welcomed. And if you want to take revenge for this like whatever I have said and made you angry with pointing at your attitudes then show it on me. Don’t do anything to my dad.”

Doyoung leaned back and smirked, “are you scared? Oh wait are you requesting something to me, to us? I really can’t hear you.”

You cursed under your breath because that earlier the rush of adrenaline made you lose your temper but you didn’t think of your dad at the time that it could harm your dad’s situation. They might can do any conspiracy to kick your dad out from the job.

“Oh the angel is silent now. Who was being so strong a few moments earlier?” Jaehyun’s mocking voice earning laughs from the other two and your tears were threatening to fall.

The sweet names ‘Angel’, ‘Princess’ are so lovable to be greeted by but they were calling out to you in mockery. They were having fun because you were having happy life at their mercy.

Taeyong cleared his throat, “your dad will be fine but you. The princess needs to face the consequences.”

Every good thing comes with a price.

COMING SOON…

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @sexygrass @minkyuncutie @loveforred [open! ask/reply/dm]

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onyourhyuck · 2 years ago

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Can We Go Back? | K.JW

— Prologue: “Can we go back please?”

— Summary: You have a tiny crush on Jungwoo. Problem is Jungwoo is helpless and oblivious to your feelings no matter how many hints you drop. One day you see him talking to another girl hugging her and it breaks you down.

— Genre: Romance. Smut. Minors Dni. Fantasy werewolf!Jungwoo x werewolf!y/n. College setting. Extreme angst. Y/n loves Jungwoo but has extreme fear of rejection. Possessive and Jealous Jungwoo. Jealous and possessive Y/n. They do it at the back of Jungwoo’s car. Car Smut. Markings. Big Dick Jungwoo Agenda.

— Notes: Can We Go Back is Jungwoo’s song fr.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Jungwoo. Jungwoo. Jungwoo.

Your thoughts were smelt into nothingness leaving only a certain someone on your mind. The most important part of it was the boy you have developed feelings for. Your college friend Kim fucking Jungwoo. You guys became friends quickly in your first semester because you are both werewolves going to school in a human common populated college leaving only humans. There is hardly any werewolves or any other supernatural creatures. You must say it was a lucky day to meet Jungwoo that day. You would’ve felt alone on every full moon.

Now every full moon you spend it with Jungwoo. Whenever there was a full moon on the weekday and you happen to have a class you both come in super tired and snappy; it’s like dealing with two children waking up cranky from their deprived sleep. The full moon makes every werewolf easily tired as well as hungry and easily sensitive and distracted.

And whenever something wolf related happens you always cover for Jungwoo and he always covers for you. Last month he helped cover your lectures classes and kept notes for you because you started your heat at that time. For a week you stayed home until it was gone and you returned like nothing happened because Jungwoo had all the information for you to keep up with your classes.

You felt like there was a connection or something. There vertically was flirting between you. I mean you dropped plenty of hints to him that you like someone and that someone is freaking him but that boy was as oblivious as anything you seen before. You weren’t sure if he was a mole rat considering how blind he is! It frustrates you. It certainly does.

In the class business everyone was dismissed by the professor up the front lecturing everyone. You elbow knock Jungwoo off the desk who was sleeping away his life with a little drool coming out the open wide mouth. “Wake up class ended!”

He jolts up from the desk standing up quickly and in a daze he looks at you, half asleep, the beautiful brunette wavy hair from sleep. “I’m awake! I’m awake. Class ended already? Whoa that was the quickest class of my life.”

He treads out the class with you by the side. You guys were discussing tonight’s plans because it’s another full moon but this time you guys were talking about staying at his house celebrating it. You were discussing all sorts of things you should have like snacks and what kind you’d want. Jungwoo was more than happy to have you come over, but he was slightly hesitant about specifically YOU coming over knowing his two roommates Jaehyun and Doyoung will probably steal you away from him.

Jaehyun and Doyoung have met you a few times. Once you were walking Jungwoo home and they saw you outside walking their friend. You live in another neighbourhood not far from where their house is so you were home in like another fifteen minutes. Let’s just say the boys were teasing Jungwoo day and night about you asking all sorts of questions.

“Come on why can’t I come over to your house? You said it was fine and now you’re changing your mind again.”

Jungwoo sighs. “Let’s go to your house Y/n. It will be so much better. In my house we have two idiots who want your attention and keep wanting to see you.”

You squint your eyes at the reasoning it definitely sounded like Jungwoo did not like his friends getting close to you for some weird reason. Your shoulders bump into him playfully as you teasingly trail.

“Oh you’re jealous they will take your place is that it?” You shot at your friend and he looks at you glaring at your face knowing you are teasing him.

He rolls his eyes. “No. No that’s not it. You wouldn’t understand it’s a…”

“It’s a what?”

“It’s a guy thing okay.” He huffs out and you roll your eyes at Jungwoo knowing he is just too stuck up his ass to admit that he wants you to himself.

The both of you were about to walk home. The activities you love doing together was usually just walking anywhere and everywhere without worrying and talking non stop until we get tired and head back home again. You love having deep conversations the most. Jungwoo was surprisingly good at keeping conversations going you have no idea — that boy can ask about hundred questions in only one minute. You were constantly speaking but you love that. Jungwoo loves listening to you. Your voice makes it soothing and your presence he can basically wear it.

Your love language was definitely quality time and Jungwoo was the same. You enjoy spending time with the boy. It doesn’t matter if it’s doing nothing, doing nothing with Jungwoo sounds haven. It sounds like a freaking jackpot.

Jungwoo suddenly stops realising something. “Oh I almost forgot. I have to meet someone today.” The figure turns around facing the campus. You wonder who does he have to meet? A lecturer? Maybe Doyoung and Jaehyun? You weren’t sure. You stop on your tracks no longer walking.

You tilt your head. “Oh okay let’s go then.” You were about to walk away. Your body moved on its own and Jungwoo stops you on the tracks. “I gotta go alone Y/n. The person asked me to meet them privately. You can go home alone today.”

‘Home alone?’ Your mind repeated the last words like a breathing taking ending to your heart. You don’t want to go home alone. It feels weird walking alone without Jungwoo by your side. Your expression was confusing but he could tell you were pained thinking about it. You shake your head standing by the gates exiting the campus.

“How about i wait for you instead?” You’d ask.

Jungwoo looks at you seemingly liking that idea but he wasn’t sure how long this meeting would last. “That works too. I don’t know how long it’ll take but if you can wait for me that’s fine too.”

Whoever this person was it made you want to find out. You know everyone Jungwoo knows and he knows everyone you know. How come you don’t know this person at all and what’s the big deal? Usually Jungwoo would tell you everything he speaks about with people it’s a big shocker right? You know every secret he knows. You’re like two secret agents conspiring against each other’s enemies. But right now it did not feel like that. It felt like a big change and you hate change honestly.

When the boy left the scene to go meet this person the empty campus you couldn’t help but track Jungwoo behind. You felt awful stalking your friend but you couldn’t ignore this curiosity of yours. You want to know if Jungwoo is okay, you tell yourself that it’s because you were worried for him. It wasn’t wrong but it certainly wasn’t the only feeling as to why you’re following the tracks.

You’re doing this for your own sake too. You were following the lead behind a pink tree up the front you stay low behind the bushes watching through the jagged thorns. You wonder why was Jungwoo at a Sakura blossom tree? This place was where couples go and kiss claiming they will be together forever and ever. Which always sounds lovely if you’re in love.

‘I wonder if i should take Jungwoo here to confess…’ you trail thinking to your own smug thoughts.

But as your thoughts were interrupted hearing another female voice approaching Jungwoo from the Sakura tree you felt an intense wave of anger and jealous hit you stunning your tainted heart and breaking it with cracking it with a half. Your hands ball as you saw Jungwoo smiling down at her as if he was never that cheerful in his life before. That girl holds out a chocolate box made up in a heart shape smiling at Jungwoo back.

Did he come here to hear a girl confess? You must be kidding me. You repeatedly thought why he was so distant and it’s because he was getting a freaking confession! He left you for another girl.

To say a goodbye to your confession idea because you were a step loose and another quicker fish took the bait to do it. The girl whoever she was you never knew someone was there you could want to urge to kill and you weren’t aware of it until you saw jute girl and Jungwoo hug. You ran away at that time.

You couldn’t believe your eyes it hurt too much to watch any longer. To see your crush hugging another girl that wasn’t you?

‘He definitely said yes to her. He definitely did. She was totally his style that he likes.’ Your thoughts were killing you from inside and out.

You were complementing the idea of staying and waiting for Jungwoo in that moment when you come back to the campus exit. You slowly walk away but a voice brought you back from your venous thoughts like it was a dream all along.

But it wasn’t a dream. Jungwoo runs up waving. “Y/n! You really waited for me sorry it took so long.” The boy came with that chocolate box in shape of a heart and your eyes immediately came back to reality. This was not a dream this was a nightmare.

Your daggers point at the chocolate box. “What’s with that? Don’t tell me you took so long trying to find chocolate.” You murmur crossing your arms together. Jungwoo looks down at it shrugging. “Oh that! Don’t worry about it. Someone gave this to me. Let’s go home before it gets any darker.”

You never wanted to go home so fast before. You wanted to cry and cry until you were done from the tissue box becoming empty. The walk was sort of silent because you didn’t want to speak, if anything you wanted to be left alone in your own room, bringing dramas and shutting yourself from the world until you forget this ever happened.

Worst part is Jungwoo didn’t tell you anything about what he was doing there. If you weren’t there following him you wouldn’t even know about this leaving a big betrayal on your heart knowing your friend who you have feelings for, would do something so terrible to you. If only he wasn’t so dumb to notice them at all.

“You’re awfully quiet Y/n.” He trails opening the chocolate box and eating one piece. His eyes light up liking the scent and the taste.

He looks over at you. You were trying so hard not to be mean but how could you not be? The guy you love is eating the chocolates of his possible new lover now!

“I feel like being quiet today. You got a problem with that?” Your voice was a complete different tone from before which made Jungwoo stop for a bit and slowly run up to catch up with you. Your pacing of walk changed his and you were walking faster as if you were trying to leave him first.

He squints his eyes suspiciously at you. Something definitely happened to you and he needs to know now.

“What’s up you look like you want to chew something and spit it out.” Jungwoo points at you a little bit seeing how tense you really are.

You glare. “Nothing is up Jungwoo. Nothing at all is freaking up.”

He raised his eyebrows. Whoa he never seen this much attitude in a person before. Jungwoo points one piece of chocolate at you. “Are you okay? You seem angry actually. I can tell something is wrong. Want a piece of chocolate it will make you feel better?”

Your hand smacks the chocolate out his hand stomping your feet as you scream unknowingly you did. This was all your built up frustration speaking and your grief knowing you probably lost your freaking friend to your feelings now. “I don’t want your fucking chocolate Jungwoo. God you’re so fucking blind— are you a freaking mole rat? Cant you see what’s been happening around you?”

In fact the boy can’t see what’s happening around you because he was stunned to his boots seeing you do a giant outburst like that. Jungwoo for a moment saw your eyes turn into this malicious creature that could kill him if he did another wrong step. He stands there seeing your face grouch and your hands swing as the chocolate fell on the floor somewhere far away. He couldn’t understand though.

What was happening? What was he not seeing all this time? Jungwoo was a lost soul he couldn’t figure this out no matter how many times he thought it through.

“I’m sorry did i forget your birthday or something? I swear your birthday is next week.” He would suddenly speak after your long pause of silence and god you never wanted to smack someone so hard.

You look away scoffing. “Birthday? Jungwoo my fucking birthday is in November. We are in middle of May!” You swung your arms around walking away as you turned like a similar umbrella excusing you.

Jungwoo follows you from behind shouting. “Then what am i not seeing Y/n? What’s happening. Why are you angry tell me.”

You stop turning around. Jungwoo gently bumps into your back before you turn around pointing a hand in his chest repeatedly. It felt like a literal stab down his heart.

“I’m tired of trying for you Jungwoo. I really fucking am. You figure it out what’s wrong. You keep hurting me because of you I’m so upset.” You growl pulling away. “I don’t need someone as dense as you to walk me home I can do it alone. Oh and about that Full Moon at your house? You can fucking cancel it! You can bring along your new girlfriend to it instead.”

He was loss to words seeing you walk away from him for the first time ever he was left outside and a striking thunderstorm falls down on him. He held the chocolate box trailing wondering what you meant. ‘Girlfriend? What girlfriend?’ At least he thought until the flashback made him remember everything. You saw it. You saw the Sakura blossom and you probably thought he was ditching you.

God he felt like a stupid idiot for not connecting the dots quicker. He grabs his head and dropping the chocolate box on the ground as it was raining heavily soaking the clothes to the skin so tight. ‘My lord I’m an idiot. Darn it how will i fix this.’ Jungwoo never ever wanted to turn back time and let the world know of how much of a mess he just created.

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“What an asshole, Y/n. Glad you sort him straight. You don’t need someone like him around you causing you trouble on your good heart.” Your roommate and friend Momo said. You were venting your whole heart to the young Japanese girl. She was an exchange student from two years ago and ever since then she was always there to let you vent if you couldn’t tell to Jungwoo because most of it was Jungwoo related problems.

If these weren’t Jungwoo related problems. You would’ve told Jungwoo. Unlike him who can’t tell you everything you felt betrayed by him and all you were doing was laying on your bed sobbing your eyes out at every tissue and Momo was here keeping you the company with a bunch of kdramas.

You sniffle with your red nose all from blowing the tissue on it so much. “I can’t fucking believe it. Was I not good enough for him? Did he really have to choose her over me. I mean I don’t get it. What does she have that I do not?”

You tried to think about it. But simply comparing yourself to a human it was a clear reasoning but at the same time it didn’t make sense.

Momo trails. She was a vampire living with you and many would think that’s quite controversial speaking wise because Werewolves and Vampires aren’t really meant to be friends. But you and Momo were a change to that statement.

She was a good friend. Very understanding and caring and she has life experience of thousand of years dating wise so she could always give you dating advice without a credit.

“I don’t see it. I mean werewolves prefer werewolves don’t they? Why would he spend his limited time on a human girl.”

You glare at the ceiling rutting back and forth on your bed rolling side to side like a wrap on your blankets. “I don’t fucking know. I thought I was very clear with my feelings. I mean on Valentine’s Day I gave him his favourite perfume because he ran out! So why am i in the fucking friend zone.”

“But a human girl got there in a day. I’ve been trying for years. But a human girl did it in one day.” You slam your hands on your face constantly. This was killing you and Momo taps your shoulders comfortingly.

She grins playfully. “I can drink from her if it makes you feel better?” The vampire fangs poke out and you smirk shaking your head. Sometimes Momo scares you how fast she could really drop the nice act and fully bite someone drinking them dry.

But not everyone is perfect. Momo at least has some self control. You sigh. “It’s just… I can’t imagine living without Jungwoo in my life… it hurts to see him go away.” You trail depressingly again and Momo could say she was the life in your eyes wither away like a dead flower decomposing on a dead winter night.

“He will come back. If he doesn’t I’m sure it won’t take long till he realises that he’s in the wrong.” Momo would push the remote out suddenly changing the channel. “How about we watch Goblin together to get your mind off him?”

Goblin? You heard Goblin and never wanted to get up so quickly. You sat up crossing your legs over the other letting Momo join you on the bed sitting in the similar position. You smile suddenly completely forgetting your problems for a whole minute.

“Man I love the grim reaper so much.” You said holding your knees. Momo smirks tapping the remote on her legs as she saw the main characters. “You can take Lee Dong Wook but I’m taking Gong Yoo any day.”

You and Momo slowly sank in a deal.

Meanwhile over at the household with the boys having a full on dead meeting. Doyoung couldn’t believe his eyes to see Jungwoo stressing finally over you. It took him some time to come to a realisation that he’s so blind the right person was right in front of him all fucking alone. Jaehyun on the other hand was nonchalant about this and told Jungwoo to just apologise and go on the knees in front of her house. But Jungwoo knew tha wouldn’t work.

Begging on the knees doesn’t work for you he knows this. Apologising maybe works but going on the knees and looking pathetic? It wasn’t your go style. He knows you don’t like people begging you for forgiveness it actually annoys you. You weren’t sure what you wanted yet but Jungwoo knew it was something more healing than stressful.

“I really fucked up with Y/n.” He sighs holding his hands together in deep thought.

Jaehyun blurts out. “You really are blind aren’t you? How did you not know that she had feelings for you.”

Jungwoo stares at the older boys in front of him. He loosely lowers his head running his hand through the thick bouncy hair he has. “I… don’t know. It all makes sense now but god I’m useless at this love stuff.”

Doyoung was quick to comfort Jungwoo and trail softly to give an advice rather than lecture the younger boy to death. “The full moon is tomorrow why don’t you make it up to her then? Just meet with her and speak I think is all you need to do.”

He looks up nodding. Yeah? Maybe all you need is a good long deep talk. One conversation can fix a lot and Jungwoo might be able to get on your good side with this, or well he hopes he can.

“And don’t mention that girl to her.” Doyoung warns.

Jungwoo silently swears just by getting in that warning. He still has the sparring images of you smacking the fuck out of his hand at your angry outburst.

He shivers in fear. “God tell me about it. I never knew Y/n could have such anger inside her.”

Must be that full moon effect getting to you too because Jungwoo is here becoming fidgety.

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The very next morning Jungwoo had a very clear vision planned out. He will sit next to you and speak to you about what happened yesterday. He will ask you to meet him straight after class and then he will explain exactly what went downhill yesterday and how much he was a complete asshole and a mess for not realising sooner everything.

But when he entered the classroom tell him why you were sitting with the class president chatting to him and laughing with him so happily as if nothing happened yesterday between you and him?

Jungwoo stands there shocked and a little bit wounded in the heart seeing you become buddy buddy with Mark Lee. You were the happiest he’s ever seen with Mark. It kind of annoys him.

He wasn’t sure why it was so annoying until he realised that perhaps, he does like you too. That perhaps maybe all along he was oblivious to his very own feelings too.

Jungwoo saw how everyone was sitting somewhere only he was not. Simply standing in middle of the entrance dazed at how you moved seat from him. He was hurt to the point he wanted to throw Mark off the seat and take that one back so he could sit with you but that’s to an extreme. It doesn’t help that today is a full moon so he’s so fucking tired it doesn’t even explain how much he wants to doze away.

He sat down back into the old seat sinking in it and having such an empty right side aches Jungwoo deeply.

If this is what you felt yesterday when you saw him and that girl he was terribly upset by making you feel this way. He’s such an asshole. He definitely feels like it right now.

‘God this is such a long lesson…’ Jungwoo trails in his own thoughts see the professor walk in to start the class.

‘God this is such a long lesson what am i going to do now.’ You thought in your head when the professor came into the view front of the green chalkboard.

Your thoughts were the same even though you weren’t aware of it just yet. You both wanted the same thing. You both wanted each other.

‘I wish you were here to distract me from how boring this lesson is.’

As the lesson was carried on you and Mark kept on speaking very loudly to his ears it really irritated Jungwoo from where he sat far from you yet he was very much not far enough because he can hear that boy highkey simp for you. Oh god badly he wanted to just snap something in half.

Crack…

Jungwoo looks down at his pencil dwelling on how much it snapped so quickly in his hands just by the strength of the fingers. These full moon side effects have been getting to him honestly.

He puts the pencil away grabbing a new one out the pencil case however someone offered a pencil from another view. Jungwoo looks up seeing the girl from yesterday showing down a pencil.

He gulps seeing how much this could look in your eyes but he really needed a pencil.

“Jungwoo here take this. You can keep it.” The young human girl smiles down at the boy finding him too cute to deny.

He looks around and grabs the pencil nodding his head showing gratitude. “Thanks Minyoung.”

As you were about to turn around your eyes caught the same girl in front of Jungwoo giving him a pencil. In that frame work seeing Jungwoo smile up at her and thanking her; it truthfully made you lose your shit in that moment.

Mark saw how disconnected your expression was. It was like a mix between anger, jealousy but also intense sadness in your eyes. He looks behind to see what you were probably looking at and he saw Jungwoo and a girl at the frame angle speaking.

“Hey Y/n what’s wrong?” Mark slants down blocking the view Jungwoo in your eyes suddenly and you stare at Mark looking away.

“Nothing. Uhm.” You say shakily and Mark saw how you were clenching your work in your hands. He chuckles seeing you. “Uhm you’re squishing your work…”

You let go off the paper realising how much you squished it together into a paper-ball. God you weren’t aware how much you were doing with your hands it’s as if you dissociated from reality.

“Oh uh. Thanks. I wasn’t sure what that was.” You nervously laugh it off and start to up bundle the paper ball back to normal. ‘He really doesn’t need to show off his new relationship with her.’ Mark saw you acting this weird he wonders what happened between you and your best friend.

“Did you and Jungwoo have a fight by any chance? I’m just wondering because… you guys are really far apart from each other today.”

Mark saw you turn around for a while watching him. You weren’t sure what to say or what to do. You wanted to say yes but then you didn’t want to seem like you were going to Mark only because of that. You sigh looking around.

“I’m sorry. You’re in between all this mess now.” You say and Mark shakes his head grinning. “Nah don’t worry about it.”

“What did you guys fight about?”

You look at the Canadian boy as your eyes fell to Jungwoo you saw him staring you down so intensely you could feel a shiver run down your spine. You clear your voice. “I’ll tell you later. I don’t really wanna discuss it in class.” You said as you turn around and Mark respected your choice. He goes back to doing work with you.

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You stand outside your car unlocking it. The class ended and you’re on your way to go home and probably cry some more until your heart no longer can prorogued tears and you no longer feel like you’re in pain suffering.

But as you were entering your car putting the bag in the back seats. Your seatbelt on and you driving off while starting the car engine by the car key. You saw a running boy in front of your car suddenly and you stop on your breaks. You saw the boy nearly fall over as he was running in front of you as you were about to drive out the parking lot.

You gasp fearing he might be hurt because when you realise who the boy your eyes were tearing up. Fuck you almost ran over Jungwoo.

He yells outside but you could hear him well although it was a little muffled due to you being inside the car. “I need to speak to you Y/n!” He shouts.

“Geez fucking Christ you nearly got ran over what if i actually did that! You’ll frame me for your stupid death.” You shout back scolding him. The car door unlocks and Jungwoo heard it approaching the empty door and sits in the passenger’s seat. You awkwardly turn around pulling the car back into the parking lot where you stop the car from being on. You turn it all off and let you guys sit in a peaceful silence.

Jungwoo took his time recollecting a strong monologue to say to you. He was nervous as hell and you could hear his heartbeat coming out nearly.

“I… I’m really fucking sorry Y/n. I really am for everything.” Jungwoo’s body swings around catching you off guard. “I’m sorry for being a really bad friend and for not listening to you. I’m also terribly sorry for not telling you the truth but— let me explain before you say anything else.”

You shut your mouth when you were about to say something but you only nod alerting Jungwoo to know you’re okay with him explaining now or never.

He stares at you for once as if he was relieved to see you and honestly very glad you were being lenient on him and not so harsh like yesterday. He admires even though you weren’t aware of it, he admires you a lot. You do a lot of things for him that he took for granted long before you even developed a liking to him now.

He softly spoke looking down at his hands. “I rejected her.”

You shot up from your seat wondering what he meant by this. You tilt your head escaping out a soft ‘Huh?’

“What do you mean you rejected her?”

Jungwoo stares at you replying back quietly. “I told her i already had an eye on someone and that we can’t be anything more than just college classmates.” He clears his throat and you stay there stunned glaring. You raise your hand and slap his arm. “You — you made me think you were with her because you were hugging her!”

He looks back at her holding his chest wondering what’s with the slaps. He thought you were going to be happy to know he rejected her!

“Ow! Wait ow ow— what’s with the slapping Y/n! That hurts please calm down.” He held your wrists as a way to stop your attacks and pulls you closer to the passenger seat your faces coming close. Your lips barely away from one another and your breathes itching to just be taken away. Your voice came as a surprised whimper wondering why he was staring you down like you were his dinner meal tonight.

“And fyi i hugged her because she asked for one not because I was willing to.” Jungwoo paused. “I really only want to hug you. Without asking you. Without knowing it’s you I just want to be on you with my arms wrapped round you…”

You couldn’t help it but your overthinking senses were playing a heightened role of you becoming drunk on Jungwoo’s scent and the way his body was stretching out to hold you so close. The way his hands were barely at your waist but moving closer to pull you in with them. You were shocked to see Jungwoo becoming so reciprocating to you and your feelings it truthfully felt like a liquid dream you were in but at the same time this felt too real.

Too real to capture in a mere dream. The way Jungwoo’s eyes darken seen you and thought of you. Your brains were synch as one and now all you were wanting to do was makeout heavily. Jungwoo pushed you into the backseat as your lips crashed together without wasting any second he was moving quicker than his body could handle. You were squirming to the back slanting in the back seats underneath him it felt like a dream come true to have you breathing so heavily thanks to your deep enticing makeouts you were sharing together.

“Jungwoo…” a moan escapes like a rewarding prize for him to claim and he sucks on your bottom lip pulling it apart.

The hands securing your clothes were slowly undressing you until you were left in your bra and underwear. You slowly undressed Jungwoo too leaving him shirtless and in the boxers parting on the small waist of his. You straddle his waist pulling Jungwoo even closer and he swore he fell in love just by your legs forcing him to be closer to you than before.

“I like you saying my name like that.” He chants around your neck kissing down until he met your collarbones slowly giving it a suck on that skin. You shiver as it starts to rain outside and you’re both naked in the back of your car with nothing but your body warmth together.

You felt both connected together like you were one. He held you tight enough to leave you wanting more. Hugging wasn’t even an option anymore you want to be under his skin. Your fingers trace at the back down his spine and his waist. Jungwoo felt you slowly pull the boxers down and see how he sprung up the manhood making you drool at the sight.

It was a very pretty sight you’d have to say. It was everything you imagined but better. You hate to admit it but your lustful thoughts of him before were nothing comparing to this. This real deal was better than you thought. Jungwoo saw how you stroke his length with your cold hands and he squeezed your hips in response.

‘He was so sensitive.’ You were amazed by how fast he was moving along seeing you stroke him down and up in soft motions. And he lets out the softest moans ever you couldn’t believe it. He was getting the best treatment for you it’s only been fair if he lets you get the best end of the stick right?

“Enough… Y/n… I want to finish inside you.” He pleads.

He pulled on your ankles pushing you down into the backseats belonging to the car and suddenly switched the demure. You were surprised by how fast he could change from a loving man to a domineering and intimidating person who was losing control and barely hanging by a string. As you were pushed down he heard you gasp pulling apart your panties with his finger and fondling your breasts by the other hand. You moaned when one of his fingers pushed the way in you.

He saw your eyebrows raise up like they were clouds in the sky. You bite your bottom lip as Jungwoo watched you intensely seeing you moan everytime another finger dropped in you. You were soaking as if you were in the rain but you really were not. He was at awe how fast you got wet.

It felt like a giant ego boost knowing it’s all for him and only him.

You’re loosening up enough to take him is where Jungwoo stops and slings the tip to your entrance aligning it for you. You pull yourself up a little putting your arms round his neck and he hugs you tight smelling your perfume and scent sank in your loving sweet soft skin. It was begging to be marked by him.

You hum when the tip enters you and you felt your weight slowly deepening on the back. You really hope no one saw you with Jungwoo like this but at the same time…

You sort of wish that girl who likes Jungwoo sees you and him together.

It sounds cruel but you wanted to make it clear he was yours. He was never going to be hers. Jungwoo knew you would never see the end of him and at least now he made it clear the only he has was on you and only you.

Then a fiery kiss reunites you and Jungwoo as he was thrusting into you so deep you felt like you were squished between two boulders falling down from a long cliff onto you. You were addicted to this painful feel you never felt this high before and perhaps it must be the full moon side effects making everything for the both of you ten times more powerful. You never had sex at this moon cycle before and not even with a werewolf because you were waiting for Jungwoo all this time.

However it looks like everytime he was indulging into you Jungwoo was losing his mind. The body lost control and snaps into you enough to shake the car with the force. You were making all sorts of noises. Moaning into his ear. You were cutting out sentences that did not make sense but he knew, he knew it felt too good you couldn’t talk enough.

The only sound there was between you was the squelching sound that came from down below your wet cunt, dripping on the seat so much because you were coming repeatedly on his girth-like cock that stretched you to the oblivion.

It was so intense that Jungwoo had the urge to just bite down on your shoulder and claim you to be his. And you wanted that. You knew what he was thinking and you could only edge him on with words.

You whimper. “Jungwoo… Jungwoo mark me.”

At first he looks into your eyes but the way his hips and waist were grinding into you did not stop. He looks back at your shoulder smirking. “You really want to be marked this badly?”

He was taunting you with a teasing joke and you lay back huffing. “Please… claim me. Make me yours.” You ache at what you really want and Jungwoo smiles lingering down capturing a soft bite into your shoulder but even though it was such a soft bite,

It really made the painful experience more worth it. Somehow the pain become pleasure and the pleasure become your high you were chasing. Jungwoo pulls away to admire that mark on your body and you pull him into another kiss. You pull away whispering. “Now fill me up until you can’t anymore.”

He stares down at your intense gaze. “I was planning to do that anyways.” He croaks out.

You’re both always on the same page thinking the same things and doing the same actions. You understood each other beyond anyone else could’ve. If you had to say, you probably thought you’re soulmates. You just get each other without a single strand needing to stand up.

Your bodies were going into a heating overdrive when finally he released and dumps the gigantic load inside your walls painting them nothing but white. You couldn’t see for a moment getting a wince of dizziness and pleasure hit the oxygen in your brain. Jungwoo felt the same way as he drops his head on your shoulder where he marked you as his.

You both let out a sigh in unison catching your breathes. Your hands loosen round him and he slowly does the same. The car was steamed thanks to your long hour sessions of railing each others shit. You couldn’t help but notice Mark suddenly walking past the car half embarrassed.

You grew red to your face. “Oh god he saw us definitely.” You saw how happy Jungwoo was to hear that. He felt so proud of himself, like a little boy in a candy store.

He laughs a little. “Good. I’m glad he saw.” You look over at him slapping his biceps. “Jungwoo!”

You were beyond embarrassed now. You’re thinking this might be karma for you thinking you wished the girl to see instead of Mark and that was a way for life teaching you to calm your intrusive thoughts.

Jungwoo grabbed you from behind kissing your lips when you were shocked and embarrassed. He however couldn’t care less. Mark should see who you belong to.

And it’s him.

You saw Jungwoo pull away as he calms you with a kiss. He saw you stay quiet but only stare at him with a smile.

‘You were happy.’ Jungwoo thought, he was relieved to see you being your usual happy self too.

“Hey Y/n?”

Jungwoo calls out as you were both changing in the car back into your clothes so you guys can finally leave the campus parking lot. You really weren’t even aware of the time but it’s beyond the afternoon and it’s probably the evening. You seriously couldn’t get away without touching each other still. Jungwoo occasionally wraps his arms round your waist as you were changing or you would capture a kiss on his cheek when he was putting on the trousers again. It’s impossible to not touch someone as beautiful as you.

You look up at him. Jungwoo was in the driving seat and you were in the passenger now. “Hm?”

He heard you look at him and Jungwoo smiles down at your lips once again. You felt him lean in and slowly kiss you.

“Can we go back please?”

You were at a loss of words as he said this. Jungwoo was so innocent looking but the way his body, mind and probably spirit too we’re not enough has you in this physical chokehold.

But you were the same because you loved it. Smirking you look up at him. “Round 2?”

You’re more definitely coming back late to celebrate the full moon at his house.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu! Reblog and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out.

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